


The Ruins Part 2

by DJwriter



Series: The Ruins [2]
Category: Original Work, The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Post-Apocalypse, Protective Negan (Walking Dead), Secrets, Series, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), Violence, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 82
Words: 191,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJwriter/pseuds/DJwriter
Summary: Three months have passed since the gruesome battle with Charlie Marion Pink-Eye and the KillGames in the Infected-infested mountains of the Ruins. It's also three months now Mal and the RK's are officially part of the infamous group of the Saviors and Negan, the pot-mouth humorous, larger than life leader. Now the battle isn't over, they still hunt down the Claimers and Glory and her men. After that alliances are turning into something more unique and special.But everything in the Ruins goes wrong. They are pursued by the living dead, wild animals, and murders, and the conflicts in one of the Eleven Towns. Worst of all... the past is coming to haunt them again and not everyone will make it out alive.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead) & Original Female Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Ruins [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952119
Kudos: 1





	1. Part 1: The Winter Road

_~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~_   
_Robert didn't like that answer, "Naw, there's no such thing as luck." His chuckled darkened. "See, what I believe is that everything happens for a reason." He explained sternly._

_The sudden change in the_ **_Claimers_ ** _attitude didn't rub her the wrong way, but she had cautious eyes on him, fingers grazing over the radio attached to her ankle. "Sure." Vix scoffed._

_Robert's gaze never faltered, "I do. And I can prove it to you."_

_She then looked at him, curious yet suspicious._

_"You see this winter has been especially cruel. A_ **_few months_ ** _back, I- we had a huge group, doing something for a change. But we're attacked and we split. Still contacting yet it's difficult for us in the winter."_

_Vix had sat by the fire warming her hands and then turns the radio on for the other to listen as Robert continued his story._

_"A few of my men went with the others. Only a few came back..." Robert explained, "It's crazy when he heard who killed them and also destroyed our foundation. A_ **_man named Negan and a little blonde girl_ ** _."_

_Vix felt her heart jump out of her chest as Robert smirked deviously, almost sinisterly evil._

_"You see? Everything happens for a reason."_   
_~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~_


	2. Chapter 1

"Mal?"

There was a heavy hand on her shoulder, and Mal instinctively flinched away from the contact, fear seizing up in her chest and choking her.

"Sorry. I was just..." Vix pulled her hand back and looked at Mal, searching for an explanation, "I was just checking to see if you wanted me to take the first watch. I haven't seen you sleep in the last two days."

Mal took control of her breathing, willing herself to calm down. It was a touch on the shoulder for God's sake. It's her best friend of the RK's. She shouldn't be jumping out of her skin like that. Not after Charlie's been gone. However, she notices the nightmares didn't stop, they've gotten worse. She forced herself to meet Vix's eyes. "I've got it."

Vix leaned back against the railing that views the midnight sky of the northwest gates where it's abandon skeleton cars, the green covered roads, and the wall of the Tradepost. "You know," she said, ignoring Mal's annoyed glare in her direction, "You're not going to be helping anyone if you fall asleep on watch because you tried to tough it out."

Mal gritted her teeth and stared straight ahead, wondering if there was a way to move herself away from Vix so that they weren't touching without the other woman noticing. "I'm not tryin' to tough it out." She shifted awkwardly.

Vix noticed the way Mal seemed exceedingly uncomfortable with being so close and thankfully took the hint, scooting further away so that they were no longer touching. "What're you doing staying up every night, then?"

Mal turned away and bit her lip, internally debating on whether or not she should tell Vix to go to her room and sleep for the night. Not the real reason, but the surface one. The easy version. The one she gave to the rest of the friends when they caught her acting strangely the past two days.

"Mal?"

"I can't sleep."

She could feel Vix's eyes on her, still searching. It felt invasive, made Mal want to crawl out of her skin.

"Why not?"

Mal's patience wore out. "I just can't. It's not important why, maybe because the Saviors haven't found much where the Claimers and Shakespearians are and Negan hasn't come back in four weeks. But since I can't, I may as well do something useful and let other people get some rest."

Vix stared at her for a long second and then nodded and turned her gaze away from Mal, seeming to sense that she wasn't going to get anything more out of her. "Alright. Goodnight." She left the guard tower.

She stayed silently, looking out into the road, watchful and calm.

It had been nearly three months since the destruction of the KillGames. The KillGames was a terrible pit where kids are thrown in to fend of Infected with barely a stable weapon. Charlie was the founder of the games along with the rapist rats Claimers and Glory - or what Negan calls them Shakespearians from the language they use.

Before Mal joined the Saviors she was in the attack in Farmington and met Negan, the used to Bounty Hunter and the leader of the Sanctuary. She had trouble of trusting the guy. He was rash- vulgar is the word, speak anything that came in his head and mouth, and amusing most dirty humor, she eventually allied with him. She trusted him, even she told him the deepest darkest secret that she kept so long from her friends. He didn't pity her, only console her, is so nice to her. She does think about telling it to someone else. Alec could be one but her friends, she wasn't sure what their reaction will be and after.

Three damn months it's been, and Mal is barely sleeping anymore. The one time she'd had to, when her body had been so weary and exhausted that it had just given up, she'd been woken up by nightmares, memories of what had happened playing on repeat in her head for her to experience again and again. Because apparently, once wasn't enough.

No one else in her group had understood why she had wanted to go back to kill them all when she was injured. Even she hasn't told Negan more. The Claimers were involved, not much but it took all too much of her. It's a little revenge, she needs it since Negan took the hold of Charlie. So she waits until Negan gives her the clear and finally kill the Claimers once and for all.

So she stayed up until she couldn't anymore, keeping vigilant watch over her group and avoiding her subconscious like a herd of Infected in the woods.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's going on?" She quirks an eyebrow.
> 
> At first, an awkward silence was the answer, mischievous little curls upon the kids face made Mal unease.
> 
> "We're betting on how our shipping of Megan is going to play out in their first kiss." Rin suddenly speeded through her reply.
> 
> Mal blinks. "Megan shipping?"

"I am a fast man, like the wind I can take out my enemy," declared Killeen. "And I am so going to-"

Rin battled his wooden spear aside and whacked him on the head.

"Ow!" he yelled.

"Yes, you're truly frightening," she said. "I'm going to fall down and faint."

"Ow," he said louder, to emphasize the point in case anyone missed it.

Johan and Max sat on the bench. AJ is perched with Vix as he was chatting a storm. Lalon leaned against the cars that Lugh's working on the engine. Mal sat on the mats, doing about thirty crunches now, needed to do a hundred. They were all laughing. At him.

"Oh sure, laugh," he growled, shaking his wooden spear at them. "She hit me when I wasn't looking."

"So... look," suggested Max.

Johan pretended to cough into her hand but said, "Loser."

"A little focus would be useful," said Mal. "I mean... since we are going and you never know that we may be split up and you are training to save your life. To survive, you have to be smart and be brave. It's okay to be scared but don't panic."

Mal had always drilled them so relentlessly in the survival program that at first the kids were considering disowning her, ignoring since they already know.

Although it changed when they finally understood, especially for Max who made the grave decisions of defending his friends by killing a man. Mal had a discussion for him over a full night, talking about to kill is to protect the ones you care and love, that's why we kill. And how it can haunt us but only if they deserve it the ghosts won't harm them.

Three months, close to the first winter season, it felt like midsummer and Killeen was wearing only a sweat-soaked T-shirt and cut-offs. The months of training had hardened all the kids and packed muscle onto Killeen's arms ad shoulders. He squared those shoulders and gave Rin a steely stare.

Rin raised her wooden spear and in a loud clear voice announced, "I. Am. Going. To. Swing. My. Sword. Now."

"Hilarious," said Killeen through gritted teeth. He brought his spear up, elbows and knees bent at the perfect angles, weight shifted into the balls of his feet, the tip of the spear level with his eyes, his body angled for the best use of muscle in attack and the least display of vulnerabilities for defense. He could feel the power in his arms. With a loud, ferocious yell that would have frozen the heart of an enemy on the battlefields of the knight era, he charged, brining his spear up as down with perfect precision.

Rin batted his spear aside and whacked him on the head.

Again.

Killeen said, "Ow."

"That's not how you do it," said Lalon, trying not to chuckle to hard.

Killeen rubbed his head. "No, really?" He said. "I'm no supposed to block with my head?"

"Unless you have a helmet."

"Thanks, Lalon," Killeen said. "I'll make sure I remember that."

He nodded. Killeen turned back to Rin. "Want to try it again? I'll block better this time."

"Ah... so you're going to try the 'smart' part of 'brave and smart'?" Observed Johan. "Very wise."

Mal finished her workout, ending them into a stretch and smiled at Killeen.

He did block better, though.

Not that it did him much good.

"Ow!" He yelled three seconds later.

"Be smarter than usual!" Yelled Max and Johan in chorus.

"Smart!" AJ cheered as well, spit flying out his mouth. She pokes his nose and he giggles, hiding the nose so she won't get his nose.

Killeen glared hot death at them. "How about one of you clowns try this?"

"Nah."

"We're good."

"How about Mal should come?"

Mal stared at him got a moment, knowing that Killeen could be joking. But he was dead serious. "No, you've seen me fight. And Killeen, you're doing better. With more training with Lalon you would good with a spear."

"Spear and a bat with a cool design."

Ah yes, Killeen had been obsessing with Negan's collection of bats. He's been so fascinated with Ellie for the first moment he laid eyes on her and Mal is also tempted of Ellie, however doesn't like the attitudes towards his obsession.

"You have to ask Negan about that, of course. Still I don't-"

"I won't hurt myself." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not using my head to block or use it as practice. How about you and Lalon against each other?"

Lalon possessed many skills that Mal admired- fighting, hunting, unbelievable athletic prowess with the muscles- but he had no trace of beating Mal in a single fight. The kids loved to see the boys being kicked over the side of theirs head.

He looked concerned, unsure if he should agree to this. "C'mon, kids. Trainings down. Have some lunch already."

"Please." They beg, puppy eyes pleading, big wet pouty lips made them too adorable to argue.

"Sorry, we all know what happens." She then walks upstairs.

Until he brought a snarky comeback.

"Maybe I will beat you," he said. "I heard Negan kicked your butt once, so I guess you're losing your streak, Mal. Touché."

She stopped. That cocky brat. She did fought against Negan despite that he lived for twenty-eight years, survived the Black Night and made it through all of it so he trained himself to fight against enemies quicker than them. She knew she was beaten for the first time but that didn't stop her. She made her mistakes on accusing Negan as her enemy, but Lalon just ticking her off, she had enough.

"No weapons, Lalon." She said. Lalon seemed initially just stood there, as he put his spear away and cautiously walk over. Eventually, she just nodded and then adopted the starting stance. Lalon could see a glint of steel in her eyes. Maybe that outburst had been a mistake.

Barely was he in his own stance when suddenly a fist came flying in. Lalon moved to block but then he saw her other fist. Mal's right hand came in and slammed into his palm when he blocks. The second blow caught him off guard and she twists his right arm and slammed him on the ground. Lalon groaned, pleading to stop when he crashed onto the mat and groaned.

"OK, you win." He breathes pitifully. "Won't ever say that to you again."

"Good boy," said Mal as he pats his hair a bit. Putting the weapons back to the shelf, Lugh comes over after finishing the engine of the Ford truck, wiping a cloth on his greasy hands.

"You alright?" He asked, and Mal sighed. How many times will she get the same question?

She simply shrugged. "Negan's been gone for a while. I'm itching to go."

"And itching for him. It's ok, I've notice you to together. You are friends now, and when he comes back he'll take you."

Tightening her lips, she begins in her deep thoughts about her and Negan's relationship, how he was after the destruction of the KillGames. He was protective, carrying her around as she was healing her wounds. It got annoying being treated as a flimsy doll, yet she is compelled on his companionship and loyalty to her. A side she is shocked to see on a grudge, tall, confident and uptight asshole he is.

"He'll come back. We are now a team with the Saviors," he smiled thoughtfully. "You never imagine us, the RK's, team up with _the_ Negan."

Mal nodded. "Yeah... wish I met him differently."

"Well, sure but Mal, we're still here. Better get ready for bed and try to actually get some sleep."

After she finishes her bath, pairing in new clothes she enters the living and everyone was sitting around, on the couch and floor, in a wide circle, debating on some deep and serious conversation that Mal doesn't know. She walks in and the rooms silent, shock eyes glaring back at her.

"What's going on?" She quirks an eyebrow.

At first, an awkward silence was the answer, mischievous little curls upon the kids face made Mal unease.

"We're betting on how our shipping of Megan is going to play out in their first kiss." Rin suddenly speeded through her reply.

Mal blinks. "Megan shipping?"

"Mal and Negan. That's your ship name." Killeen said. "Although our first choice was Nal but it's sounds like a cat meowing."

Mal choked on her own laughter, unsure if to burst out or shrivel. "You guys agreed to this?"

Lugh coughed uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders. "It was the kids idea."

"An idea that's totally brilliant." Smirked Lalon.

"We're seeing which group is right about you and Negan's first kiss," Johan giggles.

Mal found it very hard not to collapse into the floor in a violent fit of laughter. As it was, she was doubled over, wheezing laughs escaping her, making the rest of the group stared.

"Me and Negan first kiss? Not gonna happen in a million years," Mal straightened up, wiping tears from the crinkling corners of her eyes. "To clear you guys, we're not together, and two, no, I will never be with him." Mal's eyes flashed dangerously, "What made you think that way?"

"Ya'll seem... awful close, is all." Vix answered. "In the past months he's always hovering around you, and he generous to you. The other day, Lalon said he heard Negan call you baby girl."

Mal blinked. "He calls you darling and other pet names to others."

"He gives you very deep eye contract. The look of throwing you against a wall or any surface." Lalon smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.

She growls and Lalon retreats back. "You're all hilarious. Can't you pick on Lugh and Alec? I've noticed Lugh going out of his garage."

Lugh shuddered in a quick response, almost stumbling on his words, trying hard not to blush crazy that's rushing through his ears to his rosy face. "We're just friends. Talking about guy stuff and tools, t-that's all." He clears his throat.

"Mal, we're just having fun." Said Max, taking off his Boston hat, shaking his messy brown hair. "Only games is all."

"Fine, let me hear what your ridiculous assumptions," Mal said, taking a seat.

Vix, Johan, and Killeen gather together. Vix then starts. "The three of us think that your first kiss is Negan will be the one to go for it. For example, Negan is a handsome, rugged man. He's the type of man to go for the kiss, beer to not shy away in anything. It'll take place in a sunset, sitting a patio together, shoulder to shoulder, staring out as Negan looks at you," Mal rolled her eyes, "Negan will stare into your eyes, your breath quickens, noticing in the bare space between you two. He moves in closer and kisses you passionately, taking the lead. Your mouths move slow and supple against each other. The wet slide of your mouths, his tongue sliding in your mouth." She smiles, cheek flushed.

"Eww," the kids protest in disgust.

"With tongue? Gross."

"Gross is right," Mal responded, controlling the hard flush coming up her cheeks.

"The stuttering of your intermingling breaths, the way Negan's hands wove into Mal's hair- she loves it all," Vix continued. "The only reason Mal was finally able to draw herself back from Negan was that she will feel dizzy with the rush of it all. And Negan will be wide-eyed, his lips pink and wet and inviting, parted ever so slightly, saying " _Goddamn_ ". Because now nothing will ever stop them."

Everyone claps and at the end expects hers a sad one. "Are you sure you want Negan for yourself, Vix. Because you look like you're going to pass out, and I highly am protective over you against him but this one time I will let you have it away."

"It's for you, silly. Though I won't mind at all." She looked amused.

"That's very cheesy romantic, however, Negan's not a romantic type. He's a man's lady, like me." Lalon sits on the floor, crisscrossing his legs with Rin sitting beside him. "Me and Rin actually think Mal will be the first one to kiss Negan."

"Impossible!"

Rin smirked. "He's a ladies man but he might be a soft man under all that armor. Ladies can be the ones to ask or kiss a man first. Izzy kissed Simon before he knew it was coming in Mortal Instruments."

"Clary was his first kiss," Max pointed out.

"Doesn't count. Anyway, Lalon take it away."

"Well, I won't go to explicit detail but they'll be a in nice and alone place, by themselves. Negan tries to persuade her and he's a bit chocked on what to say or do. She knows the hints yet Mal will probably have to make the choice to close the slip of space between them or let it go away- it'll be inevitable. Negan would like this approach and let her lead. He'll let Mal take complete control, let her explore with quick, darting kisses that tested the water. _BOOM!_ That's a kiss."

Mal cringed every inch as they describe the ridiculous fandom of her and Negan.

Now it was Lugh and Max's turn, and she is prepared for what's to come.

"I do like your ideas but my version is they... um, they both kiss together. They'll be laughing in their moment and have happy memories from the day of whatever they went through. Sure Negan will intertwine their fingers together but in that situation the joy will make her heady, loving the simple yet affection contact. When contacting, they'll slowly edged closer together, wanting to be nearer, the air between them intertwined flowing from one into the other. They'll be lost in the moment when they kiss. At that moment it will be just the two of them in that little spot, protected from the world by the grand walls and their love for each other.

No one speaks a word, Mal didn't want to think or visualize or anything with this. Vix smiles, her eyes are watery. "That's so beautiful, Lugh."

"I'm going to Lugh and Max's group," Killeen said.

"But bro?" Said Lalon and Rin at the same time.

"They're the winner. I can't see Negan being a wimp to kiss Mal."

Mal sighed deeply. "Look, I appreciate the whole fandom canon but it's a ship that's going down. There's nothing going between us. I mean, he's twice as old than me-"

"More experience in..." Mal squinted at Vix for saying the 'sex' word at the kids except for Max who knows about the talk. "In the deep kissing stuff." The kids _oohed_ and she pretended to gag in her throat.

"Another is he has wives. Wives, plural! And the third reason which is connected to the second one, is that he doesn't love anybody. He only uses those women for se- deep kissing releases, for the fun of it. He doesn't make them love him, just for release for the both of them. If he did love someone, he only ha-" She stopped herself, not wanting to let the past from Negan to the RK's, his Ellie before the Black Night. It's his past and he doesn't want anyone to know, it's his secrecy. "He would have one but he doesn't. Let's put an end to this uncomfortable conversation."

Mal solemnly wanted the blushing to stop. She storms to her room, sitting on her bed.

"Are you mad at us?" Max's voice sounded from outside of the room, leaning against the framing. "I'm not mocking you, Mal."

Mal smiled in spite of herself. "You're just sayin' that 'cause you want to be the good thirteen boy to me when I know you're a troublesome," she teased, and he laughed.

"It's been a long time since I heard you joke like that. I think I never heard you joke once at all."

Mal frowned. "I'm not- I...joke. Sometimes."

A devilish smile slid onto his lips. "Sometimes. Though I've _noticed_ it's usually with Negan."

Mal huffed out a breath that she hoped sounded more annoyed than embarrassed. "Yeah, well. It's easy to joke with someone who tries to make a damn joke out of everything."

Max smiled and shrugged. "Fair enough. Though... as much as he makes light of things, he seems to take you pretty seriously. It's why we think there's something going on with you. And we're also betting on Lugh and Alec. But I and the others won't judge."

Mal suddenly and inexplicably found it hard to look Max in the eye. Her gaze dropped to the green of the front lawn. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It just means that a guy like that- loud, used to being out on his own, used to calling the shots...for him to follow your lead the way he has been, he must like you a whole lot."

"We get along better than I thought we would be," Mal conceded. She could feel Max's eyes on her, see him watching her out of the corner of her eye. She knew that if she turned to face him, that same mischievous, _I-know-too much_ look would be dancing across his face.

He hummed, turning away to look out over the hallway. "Good. It seems like he's good for you."

Mal wasn't sure what compelled her to answer. "He is."


	4. Chapter 3

The next morning Mal walked with Alec who has been staying over the Tradepost for guarding duty, constructing with Lugh and few other men and Saviors on houses and warehouse for the Stock-quart, a greenhouse, and coming over to the metal factory that been used on the Infected fences in Sanctuary and making more bullets.

The grey clouds were dissolving into pale white wisps that looked like wet tissue paper over a grey ceiling. From the looks of it there might be some snow coming this week. Alec was announced that Negan and the Saviors are coming back for news about Glory and the Claimers' perimeters. They were searching for chains in case it snows heavy this first winter season and some of the tires are not winter proof.

Then Alec said, "How's Lugh?"

"Good, although a bit timid in the war. Speaking of which," Mal hummed, "You two seem to be gettin' close lately."

Alec caught her wry grin and laughed aloud, cheeks flushed just like Lugh's. "What? Yer mean like you and Negan have been gettin' close?" He teased.

"No."

Alec quirked an eyebrow but didn't push. "It's not like that. He just- uh, we're good pals. We've been spending a lot of time together, talking a lot when working on the machinery. Good on his motors, asked him if he could fix my bike. He's talking about the war, how it's a bad place."

"He told you about him as..."

"A Flyer Frontier. Yeah, scared on what I say. We have few survivors that were them, but we gave them peace, others, not likely. He stills remembers it clearly; many lives lost, the damage of destruction, how much blood there is. He know wars happen for reasons. I'm trying to help him, just being there for him, you know?" There was an unmistakable fondness in his voice, and Mal couldn't help but wonder if there actually was something more there than Alec was letting on, that he does care for him, but she decided not to pry too much.

"Wars are ways to fight against a foe. The Ruins is a constant war, death, and survival."

"Not all the times. Before Black Night was great, but we barely had so much green in the world or quietness. Yer got those kids, they matter."

Striding towards the path of the street, she recognize the people in the Tradepost selling their gears. Clouds of smoke filled the air of boiling water, smoking jerky. Alec goes to a woman, trading a gun stock hide for chains; Mal kept staring in fear down the street of the large apartment that's now covered in dust, vines wrapping itself on the muddied brick walls. "Any place where chains are?"

"Black market, Whip would sell them and..." She froze on her sentence, still staring at the abandon apartment. "Go find Whip. I'll be in the mansion."

She heads over the house where Charlie stayed in those door, keeping all the lies and pain inside the house. She stood for a minute at the open door; the stairwell broken in splinters at the edge of the floor, overgrown grass through the cracks of the wooden floors, mold crawling on the wallpaper walls, and the mass of dust that suffocates Mal. The air and the room hasn't change in the last months and no one has ever laid their foot upon the apartment. Entering, the air is thick than outside, an uncontrollable anxiety takes over Mal. As she takes the first step of the creaky stair, her mind took her back to this house and it's history. Charlie beating her black and blue. Charlie always trying to be affectionate, to love her yet is consumed of power and pain that brings pleasure upon him. She could still feel him behind her. Charlie's words still echoed in her head. The repulsive words spewing out of her mouth like vomit. Staring down on her. Eyes glowing with malevolence.

 _Stop. He's gone_.

She took small steps to the apartment. All doors closed and behind them had the stories of tragedies in each and every one. Mal was anticipating Charlie to walk out the door and drag her back to the dark room. Inhaling and exhaling, reminding herself Charlie's dead, she getting the chains that- that she wore before.

She breathes uneasily as she goes due straight, hand tightening on the knob before she runs away.

Opening the door, the office is untouched. Paper scattered all over his desk, unclosed drawers filled of scattered clothes, the scent is filled of whiskey and other alcohol's that stench the room. But glancing at the dark wooden door, she shakes to the bones, fist clenching hard. She always made herself determined to never go back, hell, even be away from Charlie forever, to kill him. Now, she has to face them if she wants the nightmares to go away.

His key for the locks were in his door and she opens the withered locket. Soon, she opens the depths of nightmares. The walls were filled of concrete bricks, dusted and molded from the ages being built. Old blood seamed on the dark floor and she can't it's hers or one of the Calvary Boys'. The corner had the metal table, laying out the whips, belts, and knives all shown on the black silk blanket. There weren't clean, rust and blood rotted the silver knives, the leather weathering apart but they're still dangerous to Mal's eye. And on the two sides opposite from each other on the ceilings were the chains. The cuffs covered in dirt and dried blood. She feels every moment in the dark room, the inflicting bites scratching on her back, the cold of the dirty wooden floor stinging against her bare stomach, arms stretched apart as the chains bite deep in her skin.

Pulling a quick tug and the chain easily drops, asphalt dust of the ceiling blew out. She did the other, showing to Charlie she's done of him. No more nightmares, facing her demons.

As she got the chains, she pushes her arm across the desk, paper flying to the ground. Opening the desk drawer she pulls a medal and cast it out, and as she heads out she glimpse a small shine in the pit of dead orchids in the vase. Charlie loved orchids, to cover the scent of his drunken scent, a perfect cover to seal the seedy lies upon him. Looking over the pot, in the middle it's bright and round. Picking it up, she's panics.

The flower is an orchid, crisp white, not dead, it's been healthy and alive in the months. It taunts her, Charlie taunts her; he's still alive and she can't stop him. Mal drops the flower immediately, her heart slamming against her ribcage, her body trembling as she bit back on a broken sob with a sharp gasp.

She half-fell out of the door and stumbled into the hallway. She sat there for a while, eyes closed, taking deep, unsteady breaths.

"Mal?" A sudden warm voice made her look up to face Alec. He's worried and he caught sight of her terrified face and let out the tense breath that had been stuck in his lungs.

"Mal," Alec breathed, "you OK? I just waited for you and called but you didn't answer. What's going on, Mal?"

Mal blinked, startled by his scrutinizing gaze. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's going on with you? This- rambling in the streets intensely, barely getting any sleep." He looked concerned, his brows knitting together. "I know you've been...on edge, since the KillGames and before. And I get that you've got a bad past. I know somewhat of your pain but not clear enough for the full story. What's wrong, Mal?"

"I- just I can't sleep because of this."

"Why?" Alec reached out, offering a hand, and Mal took it. He brushed his thumb lightly over her knuckles. "I told you a while back that I noticed that you weren't okay," he said softly. "I didn't push because I thought you'd tell me when you were ready. But I'm thinking that maybe you need me to ask. So I'm asking. What's wrong?"

Mal watched his fingers moving over her, a lump in her throat blocking the words. She hadn't had to say it in so long, had never said it aloud after the initial night she'd broken down in front of Negan. It felt harder now, somehow, after burying it for three months. She kept trying to lay it to rest every night, digging a shallow grave with her hands soaked in dirt. Like the dead outside, it kept crawling to the surface, decaying and ragged but still inflicting pain.

The words tumbled out of her mouth, as if her body couldn't stand to keep them any longer. "I was raped. Charlie was the one. When they- when they dragged us to his party I was alone. At first I thought it was my imagination. The leader- he came often more, sometimes punishments with the boys are taken in the dark room. I- was there a few. Had me tied up and- and he-"

She couldn't get anything past that out, felt the shameful burn of tears behind her eyes. Saying it now, she couldn't help but wonder why it was affecting her so strongly, after everything she'd been through. She worried for a split second that Alec would see it that way- that her explanation wasn't enough justification for how she'd been acting. Alec's fingers had stopped moving while she spoke, his hand resting lightly atop her like he was stunned.

And then she watched as he laced his fingers together with her own, squeezing just hard enough for pain to spring from her knuckles.

She didn't mind. It was a good kind of pain.

"Mal, I..." Alec started, and she forced herself to raise her head and look at him. He didn't have pity in his eyes, and for that she was grateful. Now that the words were out of her, she felt like a burden had been lifted, ever so slightly. Her eyes still burned a little, but she squeezed his hand back. The corner of his mouth turned up a little when their eyes met, and he smiled- a little sad, but it comforted her nonetheless. "I'm so sorry, Mal. Have you told anyone else? Have you talked about this to someone?"

"Yeah."

She was about to tell him, but somehow he already knew. "Negan," he said, nodding, like a mystery had been explained. "When?"

"That first night when Floyd and Morgan attacked me." Mal said. "I didn't mean to, it just- he was just there. He was there but didn't push me. It just came out." She regretted her phrasing immediately- that made it sound like it was a mistake, like she regretted confiding in Negan. "I'm glad I did," She clarified. "He's been good to me. He's helped me. I wasn't sure about him, when he first came in, but now- now we just...work together." It seemed such a massive understatement- that they worked well together. She hated that she was fumbling her words, because it suddenly seemed extremely important that she get them right- that she said them aloud. "He and I, we..." they what, she thought? Why couldn't she find the words to describe what Negan was to her? "I don't know what we are. He's something. He understands me."

Alec smiled at that, his face understanding in a way that she couldn't grasp. How he could understand what she meant when she didn't was beyond her. "I know what you mean. I know. I'm glad you have him. You deserve to be happy, Mal. We all do- it took me a long time to realize that about myself. After I lost my sister and the abuse of my old man..." he bit his lip, "it took me a long time to feel like I was supposed to be happy again. Like I was allowed. But Negan, he found me. I found him out there, was against each others throats, and I helped him, but he saved me. He saved me in a lot of ways. And I didn't just love the guy because he saved me, but that was part of it. He's a good man to have around, no matter the fucked up words he sprouts out.

Mal blinked. _Love..._

Alec released her hand. "Thank you, Mal. For telling me. For trusting me. And just so you know...I'm with you. If you're uncomfortable to go in there or anything, it's me or Negan you can go to."

Mal breathed, feeling lighter. "Thank you."


	5. Chapter 4

Mal was at home in the Ruins. She loved the woods, even as night came cascading down to turn green world into an almost impenetrable black gloom, especially being up in the trees to see many miles away.

She walked lightly, ducking under branches, leaping small gullies. The deer track they were fast, but it left behind distinct striations in the dirt and moss. Mal smiled when she saw it.

The forest was growing quiet, and with her humming a song called Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple. Negan made her listen very interesting music that Mal fell in love, rock and roll, and many songs he listened. She moved faster as she could go silently. It was a tracker's trick: Never make more noise than what you're tracking.

 _Crack_.

There was a sound, soft and close, and within three steps Mal slipped into the shadows between two elms bushes. She listened. Sound was deceptive. Without a second noise it was often difficult to reliably determine from which direction the sound had come. Ahead and to the left? Off the trail?

A rustle. Definitely to the left. Mal peered through the gloom. The second sound had been like a foot moving through stuff bush. A long pause, and then a low groan.

Mal was determined to be an Infected. Judging from the shuffling now coming closer to her left it has to be. She gets up to see a lone Infected, hair mangled in twines and twigs, mouth covered in fresh blood from its feast. As she goes up to the Infected with her machete in her hand, a high-pitched hackle and one turn to the direction the enormous figure lands on top of her.

The Runner just missed as she fell on the ground, and the Runner was pulled off the side. Then the silence was back as Mal laid there when a dark figure emerged on top of her. From the the bat wrapped in chains pointing at her she sighed.

"Well, well, well," called the familiar man. "If it isn't my favorite serial killer."

Mal pushed the bat away from her face. "Hello to you, Negan."

He knelt over as she takes his hand and pulls her up. She shies away her look from the shit-eating smirk of Negan's.

"Got some interesting shit," he concluded. "We've finally found those Shakespearian fuckers for some time. Had information from the Bounty Hunter about the Claimers but still looking."

"Where?" She prompted, wanting to know everything.

"The Shakespearians are living up at Colorado College which leads to a small town up in the lake. Far away trip but we've got enough gas, shovels and chains and trucks in case of getting stuck in the white shit. It's starting to snow which it's perfect ambush to pull out dicks out. Will be starting to plan out what to attack at."

"How many are there?"

"From all count about thirty of them. Not a lot for a ass-garbage group." He then was about to touch Mal's arm but backed off from what her reaction was.

He cleared his throat. "So, how you've been doing?"

She shrugs. "If we know where they are we should head tomorrow at the Shakespearians then in the next few days rally up our group an head over to the Claimers."

"Mal, I do like your enthusiasm. I'm just saying. The Claimers move around since they were here. That's a long fucking time for shit to happen and find a spot."

Mal nodded like she'd already thought of that. "Yeah, it is. It's also a long time for people to fortify a place." She looked up at Negan, their eyes meeting. "Look, I know it's a long shot. I'm not saying I'm setting my hopes too high that this place is still intact. But we don't have another lead, and we need to take all of them down once and for all."

Negan settled back into his seat and grumbled, "Seems like an awful long drive for a long shot. Winter will be hard."

"You got something better to do? I'd love to hear it."

Negan huffed out an annoyed chuckle. "Fuck you, Mal. I'm just being realistic over here."

"Nah, I don't think that's it," Mal replied.

"Really? What is it then? En-fucking-lighten me."

"I think you just like bein' difficult."

Negan turned, giving Mal a sly look. "Well, look at you. Got me all fucking figured out, don't you, Mal?"

Mal held her gaze steadily, but Negan swore he saw the twitch of a smile she was trying to hold back, a glimmer of teasing in her blue eyes. "I'm workin' on it. Maybe not do it quickly when winter comes."

"Let's head back, you can ride with us."

When they got back to where the others were at the road, everyone else had already returned. The other scavenging teams had come back with small but worthwhile hauls similar to their own, enough so that they'd be set for a little while.

"You guys run into any trouble?" Bud asked as he gives his signature handshake to Mal and Rachael giving a nod and a smile. "You were gone a while. We were starting to worry."

Mal shook her head. "Nothing much. A Runner caught me by surprise."

Rachael cast her a concerned glance. "You alright?"

"Yeah," She nodded, "Nothing to worry about."

"The fuck you are Blondie," burst out Bud. "You look like shit. You sure you're alright?"

"For fuck sakes Bud. Give Mal some slack." Negan barked and Bud's tail tuck under his legs. "Let's head back and discuss about our battle."

She heads over the truck to drop her backpack while Bud goes over to Negan. "She's coming in handy," Bud noted.

Negan turned his head to look over at Mal. He leans against the truck next to Rachael and Bud, chatting with them. "Yeah," He agreed, smiling to himself. "She is. Although it is such a difficult girl, especially her age of a teenager and such a bitch at commanding." He chuckles, knowing that he actually likes her guts and determination.

"Hey, Negan!" She calls out of the truck, leaning on the door while she half-way inside the truck. She heard all of it but she smirks. "Go fuck yourself." Chuckling she inside the truck, slamming the door.

Very quick turn Negan quirked a high eyebrow. "Did she fucking swore?"

"Looks like that."

The grin spread over his face as Negan patter around, he looked like a kid, practically bouncing in true shock. "Oh, my Mal is growing up." He heads over, pushing her to move out of his spot. "Scout over for Daddy," he said, Mal gave a disgusting look at him, scouting over for him.

-:-:-:-:-

That's what Negan had told them, sitting around the downstairs of the RK's house. It was a proposal, an offer to some of the RK's which Mal had no exception and agreed and her friends as well agreed yet are trying to prepare for what's to come. The Saviors will be leaving at dawn to try to find in regardless to the University of Eastern Colorado where a band is scouting but Mal wanted everyone else to go to Silver Lake/Whitefish lake area where all the Shakespearians and the Claimers taken place. There hadn't been much debate- the University isn't planned out for defense and attacks while at the lake it's covered in plans of attacks. As Lugh explained, the town is on its own with the rest to the crowd over the small neighborhood in Whitefish Lake and they'll need a draw of attention to lead a few Shakespearians into their trap. So the decision to go to Colorado was made, and they spent the night mapping out a route to Colorado, planning to leave in the morning and have enough gas and ammunition.

It sounded a little too damn good to be true to Mal. It wasn't like there weren't gated communities everywhere. If the plans work out, Mal would feel relief and maybe will try to tell more to Negan.

The Saviors will be staying over tonight in the Tradepost; the RK's lead the group to one of the apartments. With that. Negan folded the map when Mal spoke up again.

"So. Where are you going to stay?"

Negan swallowed down the taste of disappointment. "I, uh. I haven't really thought about it. Might be with my boys in the apartments, the one that Lugh said.

"I think Lugh already offered the room to Alec, actually," Mal replied, was actually hoped if he agrees to stay.

"Oh. Fuck. Uh. I don't know, then. Guess I'll just see if anyone has a spare."

"You could stay here. If you wanted," Mal offered, her voice almost shy. Negan's heart leaped in his chest, and he couldn't hold back the delighted smile that slid across his face.

"You fucking mean it, Mal?"

"Yeah. I mean...we've got a spare room. And from what I've heard, everyone else has mostly worked it out among themselves who's going where. I mean, if you don't want to stay here, you don't have to, I'm sure Vix would let you-" Negan looked up to see a pink flush across Mal's cheeks.

"Of course I want to stay here, baby. Just wasn't sure if you'd have me. Didn't want to fucking impose if you wanted the place to yourself and the rugrats."

"I want you here," Mal said with devastating simplicity, and Negan had to bite his lip.

"Then I'm all yours."

-:-:-:-:-

Max accepted Negan's continued presence in their house without protest. He watched as Negan unloaded the backpack of his belongings on top of the dresser drawers, AJ gurgling and bouncing on his hip.

"Mal asked you to stay, then?" Max wandered inside hesitantly as if expecting to be told to fuck off. Negan didn't mind him and AJ being there, though. In fact, he liked that Max was actually showing some kind of interest. He'd been worried that the kid would be actively avoiding him after the last time he brash about him- teenagers were funny like that- but if anything, Max seemed a little more relaxed around him than the other kids. The girls would be swooning and Killeen tried to be tough yet cowards in his presence.

"She did. Surprised the shit outta me. I thought for sure she was gonna send me packin' the first chance she got. Get me and my loud mouth out of your place and away from you, kids before AJ started picking up on it. I can just imagine the sour-ass look on her face if he started talking and she heard him swearing like me."

"She wouldn't send you away. She likes you."

Negan blinked and turned where he stood, squinting at Mal and trying to figure out if the kid meant that Mal liked him in the friendly sense. "What makes you say that?"

"You two are always around each other. And she seems less tense when she's with you," Max observed, sitting on the foot of Negan's bed. AJ was pulling at his hat again, but he didn't seem to mind. "You're obnoxious, but she still keeps you around. She even laughs at the dumb stuff you say sometimes."

"I've always been told that my sense of humor was my best quality. Well, that and my devilish good looks."

Max rolled his eyes. "You like her, too."

"What's not to fucking like? Your girl's a stand-up gal. Well, in an intimating way. But not like I want to fuck her, she's still not legal age."

"Age doesn't matter. You _like_ her a lot," Max intoned, the last word heavy with implications. Negan frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Don't know what you mean by that."

Max scooped AJ up, holding him to his chest. "I think you do, maybe I'm wrong but you care for her," He replied as he walked out. Negan stared down at his feet, wondering just how he felt about Mal. He wonders what Max even mean by that.

-:-:-:-:-

The kids - the girls swooning at him, Killeen grinning wide, and Max watching in amusing interest - were astonished with Negan's wild stories in the dinner table, Lalon feasted Negan and everyone with elk steak, a dash of sweet potatoes and fresh peeled peas from the Stock-quart. The stories mainly contain about his life as a Bounty Hunter, being over-exaggerated and so loud her water is rumbling, and someone like Negan, he couldn't hold back his dirty mouth. "Watch your language, Negan."

Negan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Excuse the fuck out of me, Mal. Last I checked I was a goddamn motherfucking adult-"

Mal's eyes narrowed. "And you can swear all you want around adults. Not around my kids."

Negan's eyes darted back and forth between the five children in the table before settling back on Mal. "Mal, I really don't think me dropping a couple f-bombs around the kiddos is even remotely their biggest concern." He turned to Rin, who was watching their conversation with swooning eyes. "Kid, you mind if I swear in front of you?"

"No."

Mal shot him an annoyed look. "Rin." She glared at Negan. "It's not up to her."

"Mal, I've seen these hold a gun and Max on a grown man without so much as blinking a goddamn eye. The little angel over there-" He indicated AJ, sleeping soundly in his seat, "Doesn't know what the fuck I'm saying right now. He's too young to get out a 'mama' much less a 'fuck you'."

"I don't care. I don't want them hearing it."

Negan turned in his seat, addressing Vix. "What's your take on this? This shit is ridiculous, right?"

Vix blushed and Mal kept a glare at her for any imagines. "They're my kids as well, Negan. If Mal doesn't want you swearing around them, that's her call."

"Yeah, they're your family, but you had one. If you had a couple of rugrats living in this mess, would you be sweating your ass off over them hearing a few choice words?"

"I rather not swear often."

"I think that's stupid."

While the RK's clean the dishes Negan learns about the kids. Killeen would be a handful for Mal once he gets to his teens years yet is such a tough little guy. Johan is such the sweetest angel he has ever seen in forever, her cute smile made him smile at her strength of courage yet still so full of life in the Ruins. With Rin, he could give her all the horror books he has back in the compound, a fierce girl who will be a lovely woman. Max was an interesting kid from the moment he met him all tough exterior against the world, but with a childish streak that was both surprising and unsurprising all at once. Back before the world fell apart, Negan had taught kids his age- he'd been a high school teacher and guidance counselor, and Mal had laughed louder than Negan had ever heard her upon hearing that- and he found Max easy enough to talk to. AJ was a sweet baby, and Negan quickly built up a rapport with her that surprised both himself and Mal.

Everyone went to bed. The house was dark and she stumbled in, stalking to her room that Lugh, Vix, and Lalon are sleeping over at where the Saviors are when she heard a cooing AJ. She went towards the nursery and saw Negan bouncing the boy. Mal walked to the side of the door, leaning on the wall listening. A nonunderstanding part of her brain wanted to see how Negan cared for a child, it would probably be a cuss laced lullaby.

"Hey baby boy, let's give you a rock." Negan got in the rocking chair rubbing the boy's back. "You know I always wanted a kid, still think about. Before me and Ellie were too young to plan on it but I know we would of." He rocked him back and forth, inhaling him calming scent. He felt a tug at his heart as he laid heavily on his chest. "I can't ever have one and that's probably good. I'd be a crap father and with the world ending I would be scared of something happen them." He kissed his head "I would die before I let that happen to you though. You little boy are going to live to be ninety."

Mal felt a pang of relief in her heart. With this, she saw a softer side of Negan. She never doubted Negan would sacrifice his life for AJ, he was a hero type through and through. It felt nice hearing the assertion, knowing that if she died and no ones there for any of the kids, not only would they be protected because it was the right thing to do but that there could actually be love for them continued.

"You're good with him." Mal murmured, watching from the door as Negan laid AJ in his crib, pulling the blanket on him.

"You sound surprised, Mal." He whispered.

"Can you blame me? When I think of people who I'd expect to be good with babies, I don't immediately think 'foul mouthed leather jacket wearing asshole'."

Negan shot Mal a teasing look. "You broke your own no-swearing rule. Does that mean I get a free pass?"

"No. Two wrongs don't make a right, and all that. What kind of care-taker do you think I am?"

Negan _hmphed_ good-naturedly. "Try to get some sleep, Mal. You look a little tired."

"Hard to sleep these days," she huffed, forcefully smiling. "G-goodnight." She left before Negan could say anything.


	6. Chapter 5

Mal wasn't surprised that she had trouble sleeping that night. She tossed and turned endlessly, restless with a deep well of worry in her stomach. The last time she rolled over to check the night- which she'd been doing periodically throughout the night- the night still dark. Luckily, it wasn't long after that that sleep finally claimed her.

_"You're going to fucking take it. You're going to take it like any woman. God, she looks good with blood, Simon."_

_Mal shook violently, her arms twisted and bound painfully behind her back, the icy cold of the concrete floor stinging against her bare stomach where her shirt had ridden up._

_"You look so good bending over for me." Another voice slithered over Mal's exposed flesh like a snake, a threat. Charlie just watched in his chair as all the greedy hands traveled further up._

_Mal struggled, and her resistance was met with cruel fingers seizing her neck and her head being slammed down onto the unforgiving floor. She could taste the warm copper of flood bursting in her mouth as she bit into her tongue, pain cracking through her skull and dizzying her._

_She knew what was going to happen, had known since Simon had reached for the buckle of her belt. But she wasn't prepared for it. Not when it happened, sudden and violent and painful in a way she'd never conceived of before._

_She wished she could say that the way her teeth were splitting open her lower lip in a desperate effort at silence distracted from it._

_It didn't._

Mal shot up in bed, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She was gripping the sheets below her, which were soaked through with a cold sweat that made her feel too much like she felt that day, her body trembling as she bit back on a broken sob.

She half-fell out of the bed and turned her lantern on and sat there for a while, eyes closed, hands covering her head, taking deep, unsteady breaths.

_Just a dream. A fucking dream. You're fine._

She didn't want to get back to sleep in her bed, terrified that if she did, if she laid down in the same sheets she'd just sweated through, she would end up right back in that cold room with Charlie behind her.

"Mind if I come in?" A low voice scared Mal, thinking of him but then remembered whose voice is that. Negan gets a chair to sit in front of her bed. "I see you're awake."

"So are you," she said defensively.

"I heard whispers about you not sleeping a lot. Even the kids notice. Is there something going on, Mal? You waiting for everyone to go the to sleep so you can jack off?" Negan caught sight of the death glare Mal shot him and held his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, sorry. Just trying to lighten the fucking mood."

Negan stared at her for a long second and then nodded and turned his gaze away from Mal, seeming to sense that he wasn't going to get anything more out of him. He looks at her table with the camouflage sheet where he spots the skulls. Picking the red skull, he taps his fingers on the skull.

"You keep these?" He asked.

"They're Rin's. Need to polish the other skull and give it to her eleventh birthday."

"Looks Shakespearian. Yeah, I read Shakespeare, you should too. We do have many collections of books." He taps his fingers to a particular beat and huffs a laugh. "I do miss some live rock. We could but with us being every day under siege and impossible for the dead fucks roaming around. I like to see one again, hope in your time as well."

Mal thought of seeing a band playing like the albums she'd listen too. Some of the lives of people and their structures before the Black Night may have been more fun.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and he stayed silently beside Mal, watchful and calm. He looks out into the bronze skull over the rest of her table, tapping it then kissed the skull. "I can tell this one's a lady. Don't want you to get any ideas, you minks." Mal settled back into the quiet, only to be jolted back into discomfort when Negan spoke again.

"You can tell me anything, I don't want to force you into anything. But keeping secrets that can risk our entire group is pretty harsh and selfish. But if it's a personal gain or guilty conscious, I'm fine. However, if it's something else-" He leans over close to her left ear and whispers, "it's better to tell me," then moves over to the other ear, "it's also better to have a chair that isn't so damn squeaky."

He moved back, testing the waters of the chair, squeaky every slow lean direction, and he chuckles and Mal chuckles along, enjoying this calm and humor he brought to these moments. "It's the little things that brings humor."

"I..." Mal bit her lip. "I can't sleep because- It's nothing. Just waking up early."

The was something in Mal's voice that told Negan there was a little more to the story than she was letting on. Negan slid two fingers under Mal's chin, gently urging her face up so she could look at him. Mal obliged, and Negan got his answer immediately.

"You're not sleeping because of nightmares." He could tell. It was carved into Mal's face as if with a knife- the weariness, the dark, bruise-like shadows under her pale blue eyes. The eyes themselves were haunted, worry lurking just under the depths.

"I'm fine," Mal murmured.

"You're not. You look like hell. I'm fucking worried about you."

"Well, don't." Mal snapped, immediately in defense mode. Negan should have known that wouldn't work. Maybe a different approach.

"You're a liability if you're tired like this all the time, Mal. If you're not going to sleep for your own well-being, at least realize that it could seriously cost someone else if you're too tired to concentrate like you should. You're going to war, and you still want to go beyond the wall, help with taking the group down, right? It's not safe for you to be running on next to no sleep like this."

Mal was quiet at that. _Because I know he's right_ , Mal thought. After a moment, Mal sighed.

"Doesn't matter. Not like I can help it. Not like I'm choosing to stay up." Her voice was still defensive, but Negan could hear the way it wore on her. Heard the way it cut at her, shard of glass in soft skin.

"Is it why you don't like people touching you? Is it because of... Charlie?" The name was a venom spout when Negan spoke about him, a cross of fury and disgust flicked every emotion of him. Mal nodded.

"These nightmares are getting worse. I thought when he was gone it'll stop. It keeps coming back, more real, so deep into my skin, and I can't sleep in this same shit bed while I want to close my eyes but I will see him again once I close them."

Fuck, she was losing it. She was losing her goddamn mind. She felt weak in a way that she had never felt before, and speaking to Negan gets harder and harder for what she really wants to tell him.

Silence stretched between them again, this time filled with a heavy tension that Negan could swear he physically felt radiating from the girl. Negan watched Mal shift uncomfortably beside him as if weighing her options in some internal struggle.

"Mal-" Negan started.

"I dreamt about the Claimers."

Negan raised his eyebrows. "Yeah." More silence. Mal was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, her face still streaked with the dry trails of tears that she hadn't brushed away. "Did something happen?" He realized, of course, that something must have happened, or else Mal wouldn't be bringing it up. When Mal didn't answer again, he pushed. "What happened?"

Mal looked down at the floor, running her fingers along the silk of the blanket. "Charlie took me to a room down the hall. Had tied me up." Mal's face was flushed, though whether it was from anger or discomfort from opening up to a virtual stranger, Negan wasn't sure. "He told me that this wasn't something he would have done before. That he'd been a good man if they tried anything wrong." There were fresh tears rolling down her cheeks again, making her voice thick.

"What did he do to you, Mal?" Negan's voice was a whisper, gentle as he could make it.

"He-" Mal shook her head as if trying to shake the memory off. Or maybe she was just trying to stop the words spilling out of her mouth. "He brought the Claimers for gratitude and made some deal that was about me. The Claimers were taunting me, beat me, and laughed when I bled. They forced themselves on me." Her mouth twisted around the words, like saying them was physically painful for her.

Negan swore he could taste bile rising up in his throat, "They r-"

"Yes."

Cold fury shot through Negan like a bullet. Everything about Mal, about the whole situation, clicked into place, the pieces suddenly making a whole damn lot of sense. The insistence on wiping them all out, the flinching away from contact- if Negan hadn't completely let Mal kill Charlie before, he most certainly motherfucking will for the Claimers. In fact, he was tempted to go outside, drag his cavalry, and deliver a few blows of his own, grind what was left of those animals into the dirt. Turn each and everyone into a bloody smear on the ground for the dead to come and dig at with rotten fingers.

Negan had never considered himself a particularly gentle man, not even before the world went to shit. He wasn't a monster, and he didn't savor killing yet does it for his community, but he could stomach it more easily than he probably should. But that...that was something that had always disgusted him to his core.

He looked at Mal, at her tense shoulders and red-rimmed eyes, at this teen who had spent the last month and a half in constant fear that the man who had violated her was even throwing her into more hell. He wanted to say something, anything, just to help.

"I...fuck. Jesus Christ, Mal. I'm sorry." His words felt like ash, like nothing. What was an "I'm sorry" from a friend in the face of that?

"What's funny about that was Charlie did stop and took me away from them. He didn't like how they treated me." She wiped her eyes, breathing out to calm herself. "That was the day he cared for me. That's why I want them to look me in the eye and see not a weak and sniveled girl but someone to fear over."

Mal gazed at him curiously, her light blue eyes scrutinizing Negan. He wanted to brush all the years she has.

She had the strength that radiated from her. Even on the bed, tears in her eyes, Mal didn't strike Negan as someone who was weak or likely to give up. She was a girl who took her pain and used it to fuel her. And that impressed the hell out of Negan.

"So, uh. I guess that fucking explains why you went all Freddy Krueger on the war." Negan said, trying to lighten the mood at least slightly. He felt like he and Mal had been staring at each other for just a little too long.

Mal tipped her head, and Negan could have sworn he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Mal's lips. "How do you know that's not just how I am?" She asked, "Maybe I'm just like that."

Negan chanced a teasing smile in Mal's direction. "Nah, I don't think that's you, except eating a man's dick off, that's scary as balls. I'm pretty sure you're a real fucking softie."

Mal's reaction was immediate, and almost certainly reflexive because the second the words left Negan's mouth, Mal was slugging her on the shoulder, hard. Negan's eyes shot up in surprise, and Mal, upon realizing that the gesture was a little too friendly for what they were, immediately recoiled like Negan was the one hitting her.

"Shit, Mal, I was fucking joking! Lalon told me that's not how you normally handle things when you took those kids in training." He was still smiling at Mal, he could feel it, and he probably looked like an idiot, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. The fact that Mal had initiated some kind of physical contact with him- albeit a violent kind- had his mind reeling just a bit. He hadn't seen Mal do that with anyone but her kids since he'd met her. And Mal seemed to realize it, too, because she had scooted subtly away from Negan again.

_Two steps forward, one step back. It was still progress, though._

"Have you ever done anything like that before?"

Mal shot her a confused look, "Have I ever killed a man who raped me before?"

"Have you ever gone all slasher-horror on someone's ass before tonight?"

Another long silence. Negan wished he could say he was getting used to them, but that would be a big fat lie. He was a talker, used to fill the space between him and other people with the sound of his voice, and never one for long, drawn-out awkward silences. He had a nagging feeling that Mal was, though. Mal was rhythmically squeezing the blanket in her hands, seeming similarly uncomfortable but also unwilling to say the words weighing on her. And then she said them anyway.

"There was a man, not too long ago. Right before I met the RK's," She began, "There was a group that snuck up on us. It was just me, the RK's, and the kids out there. They cornered us, had guns to our heads. One of them grabbed Max. He was..." Mal shuddered, "The leader started telling me what they were going to do, to me, to Vix, and then to Max, and the kids, and I- I snapped. I pulled away from the gun and got into it with the leader, and when he got my arms pinned, I sank my teeth into his throat, ripped it out."

Negan's eyes widened. _Holy fucking shit, this gal..._

"We took them out and then I went after the guy who had Max. He... He let him go, he was going to run," Mal shook her head, "I could have let him go. But I couldn't. He'd had him on the ground... so I killed him. Slowly. Drove a knife into his gut and dragged it up to his collarbones. And then I just kept stabbing him. I couldn't stop. After... the kids looked at me a little different, after that. I know that Max knows why I did it, and I think he's trying to be okay with it, but- fuck, that's a lot for a kid to handle. And I forget that sometimes, that he's just a kid, all of them" Mal's face was dry this time.

"Shit, Mal. Is it wrong that I like you more now?" Wildly inappropriate, maybe, but Negan didn't know any other way to be. But he immediately deemed the risk to be worth it because Mal surprised the fuck out of Negan- and probably herself, too- by laughing, actually laughing, and Negan was momentarily struck by how amazing the sound was and how perfect Mal looked with a big, open smile on her face, the corners of her eyes crinkling. He felt strangely proud to be the one to cause all of that. It made him want to do it again.

Mal rubbed a hand over her face, looking just as surprised as Negan at his reaction. "I guess it depends on what part of it makes you like me more, me biting the guy's throat out or me protecting the kids."

"How wrong is it if I say both? Because the answer is both. I respect the hell out of you for keeping your family safe, Mal. I... I haven't been the kind of person to stick around and get attached enough to care about people like that in a long time. Maybe it would be different if it was my own flesh and blood, but I get the feeling that you'd do the same thing for any of those people sleeping out there."

Mal's eyes were intense again, locking onto Negan's. "I would. They're my family, too." Her words were weighted, genuine but with an underlying threat: there is nothing that I wouldn't do for those people, so don't cross them, and don't cross me.

Negan had no plans of doing either, especially now. "And that just... impresses the hell out of me. But you ripping a guy's throat out with your teeth impresses the hell out of me, too. That's just fucking badass."

He then looks at her directing, knowing that she has to obey what made him concerning yet serious.

"You know you can wake me up, right, Mal?" He whispered, trying to cradle his words so that they were an offering, not condescension. "I don't mind. I really fucking don't."

"Negan-"

"Mal, please. I'm fucking asking you. Please, the next time, wake me up." He'd feel bad about wording it like that, like it was something Mal needed to do for him, if he didn't already know how much Mal wanted someone to be there with her. He could see it, behind the layers of weariness in her eyes, that core of loneliness. It was the reason she'd asked Negan to stay in the house with her, why she allowed the soft touches between them, why she'd opened up to Negan in the first place. Negan wanted to make that loneliness disappear, to fill that void it until it vanished altogether. Some of the ways he wanted to ease that ache were... less than pure, sure, but he would do it however Mal would let him. If all they ever did was sit at opposite ends of the room and stare at each other, that was fine by her. As long as it helped Mal. "You don't need to deal with this shit alone. You don't have to."

Mal dodged her eyes, focusing on the wooden floor instead.

"Thank you for coming over, to talk."

Negan nodded. "Yeah. Alright. Get some fucking sleep, Mal." He turned the lantern off, momentarily blind in the darkened bedroom while his eyes adjusted. He could make out Mal's silhouette, hazy in the moonlight. He was at such a loss as to how to help Mal, and all he could think to do was to use his own body to comfort her, to physically shield her from everything that kept her awake at night.

But Mal didn't want that. So Negan turned away, trying to bury the thoughts. It was when he took a step toward his bedroom and felt cold fingers grip his wrist tight that his heart stuttered in his chest.

"Thank you, Negan."

"Of course. Anything, Mal. I fucking mean it. All you have to do is ask. Goodnight, little Savior."

He walks over as Mal lays in her bed, watching his figure disappear into the darkness.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stray Cat Blue by The Rolling Stones- 1986, Beggars Banquet album

Mal woke up early the next morning to sunlight streaming into her room, the snow is coming down softly than hard, patches of glistening white covering the walls of the place, and fogging the window. She'd slept mostly through the night, she realized. The nightmares had still shown up, but, thankfully, she'd stayed asleep, and even if it had been a bit of a restless slumber, she still felt much better than she had the day before. The combination of a night's rest, finding the places where the Shakespearians and the Claimers are supposedly are, and, oh yeah, opening up to Negan again, seemed to have done the trick, because her body felt looser and less tense, her thoughts less loud and violent.

She lingered in her spot on the bed for a bit, mulling over what had happened the night before. It wasn't like her at all to just open up to someone like that, much less spoke more openly about her past. She hadn't planned to, but the clawing in her chest had been unbearable and when Negan had kept pressing, she just kind of...spilled. Knowing with what she said before Negan believed her so maybe it gave her this confidence.

She'd needed to say it, she knew that. Communication had never been one of her strong suits, even as a child, but she knew that keeping things like this bottled up didn't usually work out too well. It hadn't with her and her friends, certainly. But she'd never felt like this before, so vulnerable and scared, and she'd just needed to get it off her chest. It was a blessing that Negan was the one to hear more and never show any pity for her, only his condolence.

Now that it was out in the open, and that Negan had offered to...to talk to him, to be there for her...something in her twinge painfully at the idea of the man leaving so soon. She wasn't sure if she was going to take Negan up on his offer, but if she did, if she woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat again and needed to let some of it out... it was just too bad that the person she'd spilled her secrets and trusted too was leaving into war and she may not or other might not make it. That's how war goes.

She's about to change when Vix comes back from her sleepover.

"We're preparing for leaving," she said. "The kids will be staying with Sheree in here once we're back." Sheree had been so helpful when Mal became friends with her back in the Sanctuary. She loved the kids and they did some rambunctious things behind her back.

She changed into a new pair of jeans as Vix braids her hair into a high braid ponytail. "You ready for this?"

"I am, but we never know what's the cost."

She shrugs. "I guess. I've never been to one. Always avoiding them."

Mal finds in the closet a brown jacket with a white soft lining to make her warm than cold. "You don't have to come." She appreciates Mal's concern.

"It's OK, Mal. I want to join in as well. Plus, Negan needs a person to go alone and head into the corridors of the Shakespearian place."

As Mal gets dressed warmly, packing her pack full of ammunition, knives, snares, food, canteen of water, slinging her machete and loading the magazine of her pistol, she slides her fingers through her thick dirty blonde hair. So long and thick it's getting heavier. Vix adjusts the string to a higher poundage and goes behind Mal with a hair tie on her hand.

"May I?" She asks. Mal approved. "Your hair so thick and long," She braids the top of her head at the start. Mal looks at the doorknob where her old leather jackets hangs.

"Should cut it someday."

"Just don't cut it short. I like you with long hair. Done." She ties the hair into a ponytail and Mal likes the less weight on her head.

Both girls head downstairs to meet up with Lugh talking to Alec who they're chuckling together at something, Lalon obnoxiously flirting with Sheree, although she's flirting back as well as the kids run up to Mal.

"Can we come with you?" Johan asks.

"We've trained and know what to do," Killeen convinces her, adding a big pout on his lips. She leans a knee down to level their eyes.

"Someday I will but not this time. Look, I rather not send kids into a war like this. I know you're not too little, but you are still kids, including you Max. War is such a brutal place where nothing can go your way, it changed directions and whatever the outcomes to the conclusion of wars, they are costs to it and many deaths. I do not want to be thinking about you being safe while I handle killing off people. You understand that?" They nodded and Mal's grateful for that.

"Be safe," Rin hugs Mal, and Mal did flinch from the touch, trying not to create a huge reaction and pats her head. "Will try." It's the words to answer this question. Responding 'I will' or 'I'm coming back' are not reassuringly the best answer to a question.

A loud clang jumps the group. Negan stands over by the door, leather jacket and gloves with his red scarf.

"I see you're not wearing your badass outfit."

Mal rubbed a hand over her face, looking caught between amusement and exasperation. Negan got the feeling he'd be seeing that look directed at him a lot. "Didn't want to ruin in the snow, and too cold to wear it."

"You got it, Mally girl."

"Please don't."

"What, you're not a nickname gal? Or is it just 'Mally girl' you have a problem with? I can think of something else. I got a million of them."

"Please don't," Mal called again from over her shoulder, "And come on. If you're done, we're leaving."

Negan followed after Mal and passing by to Rachael who gave Negan a rifle, and joined the rest of the group out front by the separates vehicles. He watched as the teens said goodbye to the kids, that all-too-familiar ache in her chest appearing when Mal held AJ close to herself, whispering 'I love you, goof-ball' and kissed his brown red head. Lastly as the teens go Mal pulled Max in for a tight hug, hand on his neck.

"I know you'll be back soon," Max whines.

Mal nodded. "Be safe." He as well said and she smiled.

AJ notices the teens leaving and it aches them and Negan when they hear his soft cries for the teens to come back, calling their names, mostly Mal to come back, Sheree tries to calm AJ cries, and Mal is being hurt by it. All the RK's are hurt as well to leave the kids.

Going by the loaded truck with all their heavy duty weapons are where Rachael, Zachary, and Vincent will head with five other cars towards Whitefish/Silver lakes. Bud reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded square of paper, handing to Negan as he laid it out. "This is a map of our route to the university and Whitefish. We'll stick to it as long as we can. Once you get up there to Whitefish, things are gonna bounce back." He looked Mal square in the eye, "You should be there for it. Me and you will head over to the University with Bud and the RK's staying in a while, and the others head over to the lake now."

Heading inside the truck they go out, walls opened wide as one by one drive through the snow and street, the walls were sealed behind them, and then they were on the road, Lalon, Lugh, Vix, and Alec in the back of the cargo truck, Negan and Bud in the front with Mal.

-:-:-:-:-

The snow is coming hard and covered the whole highway, a few times to the wheel skidded but Bud adjusts the speed and steady on the vehicle. Driving miles away from the Tradepost, going to the destination felt like a long trip and the Saviors brought enough gas but once in a whole stop to check for some or other supplies as well.

Negan laid back and chuckled. "I'm gettin' shaggy." He said when he ran a hand over his face, feeling the long, wiry hairs there. He caught a glance at himself in the rearview mirror and damn. "I don't think it's ever been this long. Or this gray. I look like a damn mall Santa."

Mal surprised him by emitting a small chuckle and then surprised him even more by reaching back and hesitantly tugging on the graying hair. "Makes you look wiser than you are. You should probably keep it."

The touch was quick, and Mal's hand had jerked right before she'd done it like her mind and body were sending her mixed signals, but for a brief second, Mal's hand had been on his face. It was enough to leave Negan blinking in confusion, and he was suddenly thankful for the beard, because he swore he could feel the faintest hint of heat creeping up his neck.

Mal looked a little awkward herself, and she quickly turned around and resumed talking to Bud about the next time they'd need to stop for a supply run. Meanwhile, Negan returned to stare out of the window, his mind only half there.

It hadn't been the first time Mal had initiated contact with him. In fact, each day since they'd once again destroyed the KillGames, Mal had touched him in some way. They'd always been like this one- quick, jerky, hesitant, with a wall of discomfort from Mal and a flurry of confusion from Negan. He wanted to ask her about it, because the touches were so clearly deliberate. It was written all over Mal's face when she did it that it was something she had to plan out and work herself up to- she always had this look on her face- one half discomfort, one half determination. She also noticed that Negan was the only one that she'd done it to so far, and that Mal was still flinching away from everyone else touching her.

The brief points of contact between them never failed to leave Negan wondering if he was meant to reciprocate, or if this was just something Mal was trying out for herself. Either way, he wished that they had some time to themselves to talk about it. Mal never seemed to want to bring any of it up during their shared nights, her eyes always darting to the backseat, worried whoever else was sleeping back there would hear them.

Negan's wish came true a couple of hours into the trip when the group discovered that they were dangerously traveling at night and the snow is picking up pretty bad. They veered off the planned course, winding down backroads until they managed to find an area with a few shops and warehouses scattered within a couple miles.

"We'll split up," Mal said, the rest of the group huddled around her, "Have a couple people go hit up each place then head to the house over there to warm up and get some sleep." None of it looked to be too overrun when we drove by. Shouldn't take more than a couple hours, tops. "Vix, Alec, and Lugh can take the warehouse east of here. Lalon and Bud can take the few shops a few shops. Negan and I will take the shops a little farther north. We'll meet back here when we're done. The area looks clear, but if anything happens, get in the cars and drive to the closest group in this perimeter."

They all clambered into their groups and walked off in opposite directions. Negan watched Mal as they walked up north, mentally tripping over himself wondering what to ask her first. He settled on the most recent development.

"Why you and me, Mal? Figured you'd wanna stick with your people."

"Figured it'd give us some time to talk. Just us. There's somethin' I want to ask you." There was a moment of pause, and then, "And I'm one of your people now. You said you're sticking with us, right?"

Negan tried to ignore the way he felt a little lighter at Mal referring to herself as one of my people. "Right." He answered. "So, what'd you want to ask me?"

"I, uh." Mal took a breath, that air of uncomfortable tension settling around her again. "It's about what we...what we talked about before. At the Tradepost and before."

Negan wasn't surprised. What else would it be about? "About Charlie."

"Yeah. And...and what you noticed. About not liking people touching me. Being close to me." She answered. "I want to change that."

"Is that why you've been giving me hit-and-run shoulder touches and fingering my beard?"

Mal snorted out a surprised laugh. "I wouldn't word it like that, but yeah. I've been... I was thinking, if maybe I had control over it... if I was the one to initiate it, I'd get used to it."

Negan nodded. "Makes sense. So...what, are you asking me permission to keep stroking my beard?"

"No. I mean...if you want me to stop, I'll stop. The beard thing... I didn't think about it being... weird."

"It wasn't weird." Mal shot him a look, and Negan laughed, throwing his hands up. "Okay, so maybe it was a little weird. Just...a little more friendly than I thought you'd be with me, Mal. Not saying I fucking minded, though. But I gotta point out that you still haven't asked me a question. Unless the question was, 'Negan, do you mind me lovingly caressing your fucking mall Santa beard?'."

Mal shifted her feet, looking uncomfortable. "That wasn't the question, no. The question was... would you maybe... just to help me get used to having other people touch me..."

Negan's face broke into a teasing grin. "Mal fucking Mal. Are you asking me to touch you?"

"Please don't make this worse than it has to be, Negan." There was a warning undercurrent to her voice that made the teasing drain right out of Negan.

_No flirting, asshole. That's the exact opposite of what she wants from you._

"Shit. Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm...not the best with serious shit like this. I'm more of a 'make light of the serious shit by cracking dirty jokes' kind of guy. I'll stop, though. I get that that's... not appropriate right now. I can behave myself."

Mal cast him a wary glance. "Can you? Honestly, Negan, I need to know. Because this- whatever this is, with me, I don't know how to deal with it. I hate it, but I don't know how to make it stop. I thought, since you're the one who knows- that you'd... you'd know when to hold back. You'd know what's going to make me uncomfortable. But if you don't think you're going to be able to draw the line-"

"No. Mal, listen to me. I promise you, I fucking swear to you, Mal, I will draw the fucking line. I'll dig a fucking ditch in the ground that my sorry ass will fall face-first into before I make you feel uncomfortable like that. I know I'm an asshole, Mal, but I swear that I know how to control myself. I'll be a goddamned gentleman, and if you so much as give me the stink eye, I will back right the fuck off."

Mal seemed to take in his words, considering them. "You mean that? I'm not asking for- for anything big over here. Little things. A touch on the arm, sit next to me in the car, maybe. Casual stuff, so I can get used to doing it again."

"Of course. Yeah, fucking of course I mean it. Whatever you need, Mal."

That seemed to satisfy Mal. "And just...at least at first, give me a little warning? Make sure I see... that I know it's you. That I know what you're doing."

Negan nodded vigorously, relieved that Mal believed him. That she trusted him. "Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that."

-:-:-:-:-

Everything went smoothly enough as they reached to a house where they cooked a warm fire to warm their hands and bodies- and it was stripped clean so not much to scout around; a single gas station, stripped clean, the pumps long since dry, and the gas tanks of the few shambling cars left in lots and roads were empty. The scant houses and shops yielded nothing of significance, and the snow is growing inches deep and heavy.

It was only when they came across a pack of stray dogs that they all ate, nobody thought twice about the fact that the mangy mutts had once been someone's pets. She'd was relieved about killing them before they would attack and also bringing fears before, she thought, digging into a chunk of meat with her teeth. Softhearted as so many of them were, she was sure at least one person would have some kind of objection, but they surprised her, killing the dogs swiftly and cooking them up over a fire as easily as if they'd been squirrels. Unconsciously, Negan's tongue flicked out, wetting his lower lip as he watched Mal eat. Mal caught the look, and- thankfully- misinterpreted the hunger in Negan's eyes as actual physical hunger, and tilted the meat toward him.

"You, too."

Negan shook his head. "I've been eating my share, Mal."

"Just a bite. It'll make me feel better about eating this if I know someone else helped. C'mon."

Negan couldn't say no, so he took a bite. Just one, before pressing the rest back to Mal, eyes insistent. He hoped the girl wrote off Negan watching her eat as purely an annoying, overprotective gesture instead of what it really was.

Negan's gaze seemed helplessly drawn to Mal's mouth, all lips and tongue and teeth as she bit and chewed. There was a small smudge of grease resting just below her lower lip. Unthinkingly, Negan reached out, brushed it away, freezing when he saw Mal's eyes go wide and he realized what he was doing.

"Shit. Sorry. I didn't-wasn't thinking-" he backed away, pulling his hand back, but Mal stilled him with a hand on his wrist.

"It's fine, Negan. You're fine."

Mal was the first to volunteer to keep watch. She was seated beside the small fire they'd kindled for the sake of keeping some semblance of visibility, and Negan decided to stay up with her. He sat close and placed a hand over Mal's were it lay on her knee, and Mal turned to him, her eyes reflecting the same concerns Negan harbored.

"Hey, Mal?" Bud asks. "I hear you sing very good. Can you play us a song?"

"You want to hear me sing?" She burst out.

Her friends gleamed in a smirk, knowing that they love to hear Mal sing her beautiful voice. She never considers herself a wonderful voice to listen too, she's nervous of singing in front of people. Her nerves tingled, her breath is unease as she thinks on a song to sing; the annoying yet catchy Disney songs or the ultimate rock songs that Mal jammed out when she's alone in her room. She begins softly, sweetly of the song Stray Cat Blues by the Rolling Stones.

_I hear the click-clack of your feet on the stairs_  
_I know you're no scare-eyes honey_  
_There'll be a feast if you just come upstairs_  
_But it's no hanging matter_  
_It's no capital crime_

Then Lalon beats his hands on the floor, making the beat of the drums with Alec singing along.

_I can see that you're fifteen years old_  
_No I don't want your I.D._  
_And I've seen that you're so far from home_  
_But it's no hanging matter_  
_It's not capital crime_

" ' _Oh yeah, your a strange stray cat'._ " Negan's uproarious voice thundered the room, and Mal stopped a bit on signing as she hears his voice singing a bit off time but still enjoying the song, not embarrassed by the way his hips swayed and bringing the others to make the song full. Negan singing and doing some guitar riffs, Lalon and Lugh doing the beats of the drums and bass, and Bud, Vix, and Mal sing the lyrics.

_Oh yeah, don'tcha scratch like that_  
_Oh yeah, you're a strange stray cat_  
_I bet your mother don't know you can spit like that_

It was a moment of pure, unbridled joy, and with it came an almost childlike wonder. Everyone sings and Mal was momentarily overcome with the same giddy rush as the rest of them, her face cracking into a wide smile. Laughter and music blended together like bread and butter, smooth and harmonious beats making ears and lips smile as the Saviors and RK's gathered around to have themselves a random good time, singing in a large joyful band.


	8. Chapter 7

After days of traveling in the vehicles, they found the university. Mal and Negan went on their own to arrive at Colorado while the other stayed behind at the neighborhood not to far from the university.

While they were side by side Negan would talk about the joys he had when he was in university; going in so much parties while doing his job in school, yet still had the rebellious streak of getting drunk until waking up with the worst hangover. He then teach Mal the logic behind football as they drew closer to the university with one major sport, that is Football.

"OK, so let me get this straight. If you mess up your fourth down, then you give the ball to the other team?"

Negan nodded, "Right it's called a turnover."

"And if you clear the ten yards then you're back at the... first down?" Mal asked.

"First down, that's right." Negan nodded. Mal sighed in confusion, trying to get the idea behind football. "You gotta play it a couple of times. It'll all make sense."

"What a weird game."

They hop over a wall. The university looks nothing empty or ruined, the building had this ancient feeling that its history will never disappear or be broken down, the vines inhabiting the walls, windows dusted. The place was emigrated as a quarantine zone, a medical faculty to experiment and work on a cure, if they even tried but failed miserly.

"Let's head to central grounds. Should be able to see most of the campus from there."

While walking past the buildings, down to a slope, Mal asks Negan. "You went to college?"

"Yeah. Used a bit online dice my job."

"What's college was for?"

Negan had to think about the simplest way to explain. "Well, college was a school where you will live at and study, even party to find the next chapter in your life. They're usually the best parties than the shits I've been."

"But aren't you going to a high-school? Why come back another time?"

"To there education of jobs, what you want to be. I should of takin' a fucking year off, that's my regret about college."

Inside they split to search every dorm of the one building. Mal inspects a lot of the rooms were similar. Bunk beds decorated for roommates, posters of movies, instruments, desks filled with papers and textbooks, and once a while have a tiny fridge full of beer. Coming outside where there was a camp, a scout. Two lawn chairs, a sleeping bag and binoculars. Then under the bag something glistened by the metal. It was carelessly left behind homemade flame thrower.

"Hey, Negan check it out." Mal chuckled holding up the weapon.

"I'll be damned..." Negan smirked. "This is a badass motherfucker. I guess I was on the good list for Santa." Mal handed the weapon to Negan and he secured to his bag. They went back outsides to search the musky and dark space where students would work on cars.

"Ah, shit," he proclaimed.

"What?"

"Thought one of those dorms would have some dope in there. Been awhile."

Mal rolled her eyes. "And have to deal with your messed up bullshit while we're in war, hell no."

Negan giggled. "After the war. Be like a celebration, smoke a joint."

Further into the campus, across the building is a light shining down a glass window- no, a glass building. The Science building, it was called, was nothing but windows on the side giving it an appearance of a mirror. Negan flips a switch to the electronic gate that Mal had to reactivated with a generator beside the wall, "So what about you? What'd you want to be?"

Negan smirked at a memory. "Well when I was a kid I used to want to be a... a singer."

Mal let out a loud laugh. "Shut up."

"I'm serious."

"Please tell me you were in a band."

"I was. We were the shit band, made a lot from the drunken crowds, got laid with many women, even men."

"God, I need to see you in the bar and play a band."

The two headed deeper into the university, into the central grounds. Mal's eyes lit up upon seeing little furry animals roaming around together. On their paws for support, playing around themselves, hissing and badgering. The animals screamed at the sight of them and ran away.

"Are those monkeys?"

"Yeah, a whole mess of em'," Negan replied. "Better stay away from them."

"First time seeing a monkey." After some effort aside from Infected and more blocked off paths, they made it to the science building by climbing into an opening on the side. The building now looked like any places that have been trashed. Wires hanging from the ceilings, light bulbs broken, paper and assignments scattered the floor. Coming across a couple of stacks of boxes filled with books and file reports, Mal scanned through them, picking up a CBI pamphlet.

"Anything useful?" Negan asked, looking at the desks for weapons.

"Just a bunch of medical files."

Soon both holstered their weapons, machete and bat- he didn't being Ellie along, he brought a vicious and amazing yet dangerous bat named Michelle- seeing it was probably nothing but still kept their guards up. Negan opened a door to the next room and was startled by a pack of monkeys, ransacking the office space as soon as they saw them, they cower away.

"Well, at least it ain't Runners." Mal muttered.

"Yeah. No rapists or garbage people." Negan sighed in disappointment, frustrated of not finding any sign of the traitors. "Maybe in all their research they turned into fucking monkeys and it's Planet of the Apes." He seemed to chuckle at his humor, but Mal frowned, confused what he's referencing.

Negan began searching the office until he came across a recorder and played it.

" ' _There's four palettes of lab equipment all packed up and ready to go.'_ " Mal can hear the squeaking of monkeys in the background of the man's voice. He might of been a Flyer Frontier working on a cure, " ' _now- What the big question is what to do with you guys? They say that the tainted batch needs to be put down. You know what I say? Screw that. Who made bigger sacrifice than you right?' "_ The man on the tape was obviously a researcher for the Flyer Frontiers.

" ' _Vermin testing of the CBI Immonoboosters were deemed successful. Subject's brain activity seems to be comprehensive with the CB infection. All subjects started with some minor physical deformations, but after hours of monitoring the fungal matter seemed to clear. All subjects still have signs of aggression and insanity from the injections. There's no telling what this would do to a human subject. If anyone deserves to run free out there it- hey, easy. Ah! Shit! Oh... oh no. It bit me, oh God, my god.'_ " His breathes panics and Negan stops the recording.

"I'm sure glad we didn't mess with them monkeys."

Mal crossed her arms, "It sounds like they were close to finding a cure. It may have been a long time ago. Doesn't matter anymore."

"I don't know about that. Sounded more of a treatment method-" Then suddenly he paused as he saw a flashlight across the place. Unmoving, Negan pushed her down behind the desk.

"Get down!" Negan gasped.

_Bang!_

Crouching out of the room, a man comes up the stairs, and Mal pulled her colt quicker, hitting at his head and plummets down. Other voices cried, ordering each other of what to do, and they spoke English so they weren't the Shakespearian people. More come as Negan brought out his handgun, the Saviors shooting at any movement. Suddenly one comes behind her from the side window. Mal felt a sudden weight smack into her, the side of her head cracking against the cement. She felt the wind get knocked out of her, lungs struggling to suck in breath while the Claimers superior weight crushed against her back.

The blind panic struck her all at once, coming in from all sides. It was all too familiar, the pressing weight against her back, the dizzying smack of her skull against the floor. Nausea flooded her, and she bit back bile and bald fear, feeling her hands start to shake. She struggled, scrabbling at the floor, her ears ringing, and then the weight was off of her and she rolled over, watching as Negan threw the Claimer to the ground.

"Don't you fucking touch her, don't you fucking touch anyone, you fucking piece of shit-!" Negan was screaming, fists flying between him and the Claimer. Mal scrambled to her feet just Negan landed a solid blow to the Claimer that send him reeling back into the ground. He was on his feet in an instant, advancing on Negan, and Mal acted without thinking, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and shoving the pistol on his open mouth and blew his head out.

Mal tries slamming the door open before more are coming but only to be shoved back by the Claimers, kicking open as she's shoved against a railing. The Claimer gripped her by the throat, trying to shove her off the ledge. When suddenly the railing gave away, sending them both to the floor below as Negan sees Mal falling out of the ledge.

"Mal!" Negan shouted, but not quick enough. He ran over, his gut twisting as he scans her mangled body. He then sees the Claimer flat on the ground, pipes strike through the abdomen and throat and Mal held on tightly on the thick yellow wires, dangling off the railing. He gasps out, relieving to see her safe and not dead. He pulls her up and searches her, hands traveling everywhere in her body.

"You OK? Did he do anything to you? Fucking tell me, Mal." He shouldn't of screamed her head off, he was panicking and shitless scared of seeing Mal almost fall from her death.

"I'm OK, I'm OK." She touched his clad shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

"I was so fucking scared to death, Mal. Don't to that shit again."

"Scared me too. Never want to happen again."

"Let's get the fuck out."

As they head outside the exit, two more Claimers were left. Surprised at the Savior and RK, Mal ran after the first one, driving heavy fists and when he was about to kill off the Claimer going after Mal, he was suddenly grabbed from behind.

"Gotcha, asshole!" The Claimer growled.

The second Claimer had walked up to Negan instead, brandishing a knife. "Hold 'im still."

Before Mal was about to help him Negan kicks his groin in front of him before head butting behind him, throwing his weight at him against the wall. Soon he delivers a kick to the one he kicked his balls to the face before dragging him across the snow.

"You're coming with me." Negan growled, "Mal, take the other one."

"I-I'm gonna fuck... you up." The Claimer hissed.

"Oh no, I'm gonna fuck the holy fucking fuck out of you."

-:-:-:-:-

The sound of flesh hitting against flesh rang out like gunshots as Negan delivered his fist across his prisoner's face repeatedly. Blood coated his fist as he had busted the man's cheek, lip, and eye. On the opposite side of the room, another Claimer was bound to a chair with his back turned to the commotion, delivering more fear to the guy as Mal stared down and watched the beat down.

The fatigued Negan stops. "You wait here." He pants and lets Mal do her own. Now, this is what Negan's excited for, to see what she's going to threaten these men.

She asks permission for Michelle and Negan lets her take her. She grabs a chair close to the bound Claimer and showed the bat, the Claimer trembled in fear at the dangerous sight of Michelle. Unlike Ellie, she was a fierce girl, all bite than bark. The entire bat is covered with razor blades and the outer layer are long inch nails, and the top flat base is an army knife.

"This is Michelle and you don't want to piss her off. If you ever say or think or even glance an eye at her, she'll make you regret your decisions."

Holy shitballs, Negan was beyond shock although appeased at Mal's threatening tone. He would of peed his pants at her. Was it wrong for him to be a little turned on for such a disturbing scene?

"Now," Mal began as she clutches the bat in her hand, "Glory? Where is she? Also, your rat-infested people? Where are they all?"

The grimy horrified Claimer began shivering, not because of the cold.

"Glory? I don't know what you're talking about." Suddenly at the blade, Mal drives to his knee, he screamed in pain, the blade so far deep through his entire knee. "Fuck!"

Mal slaps the man's cheek. "Focus. Hey," She pointed him to face her eyes. "Tell me where Glory is then or I'll pop your goddamned knee off."

"Okay, okay." He hysterically gasps out. "Glory's at Whitefish. R-Robert is helping her since we agreed on the guns."

Mal withered with anger at no answer to where the Claimers are. "So Glory's in town. What about Simon, the others. Where's your compound?" Mal asked, but to her displeasure The Claimers remained silent until she twisted the bat's blade, causing him to scream in agony.

"I-In the quarantine zone... In Pittsburg..." He cried, wanting the blade to get out his knee before Mal would pop it off.

She pulled out the bat and stuck a knife in the man's mouth. "Then you're gonna mark it on the map. It better be the same place your buddy points too."

He marks the area on the map with the knife before spitting the blade out. "There! You can verify it with Robert." He sighed as she walks up behind him as the Claimer was mumbling his confession, constantly repeating 'I ain't lying.' before Mal wraps her arm at his throat, choking the life out of him then snapping his neck.

The chair had toppled over with the bandit limp and lifeless.

"Fuck you, bitch! He told you what you wanted. I ain't tellin' you shit." The man cried before Mal had both hands on the handle of the bat.

"That's alright. I believe him."

"No! No WAIT!"

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

_Smack!_

Three hits it all took to see his head softer into a bowl, hair mattered spread over his shoulder and blood seeping out. "Wow, three hits and their heads are like an egg."

"Jesus H. Christ on tap dancing shoes," Negan shouted, eyes bugged wide, mouth slanted. And he bellows a hefty door-hinged laugh. "You are such a badass, I can't believe you just stab the guy in the kneecap. Pretty sure I thought you would stab his penis but that's painful as well. I'm so turned on right now!"

Mal huffed a laugh then the smile was gone to see if Negan was right, looking down at his pants and nothing.

And he notices her.

"Are you checking at my dick?"

"No." She retorts.

"Holy fuck, Mal. You really thought I would actually have a hard-on of seeing someone getting their skull bashed. I'm not sadistic. You dirty little girl."

"Anything coming out of your mouth always is somehow true and you are messed up so-"

"You want my dick, you can ask and I'm let you do the honors."

She hands the bat at him, giving the stink-eye as she mumbles at Negan. "Fuck you, Negan. Fuck you."


	9. Chapter 8

By midday through many miles away from Salt Lake with no more snowfall, Negan's group meets up the other Saviors and plans on the routes of the place on the map, pointing to which group will attack first. Rachael found a little factory where two Claimers were standing out, and he ordered them to find and catch, give them to spill their guts on where their perimeter is, and also have them see if the Saviors found the right track to Glory's area.

One problem was who would step up and put themselves a bait. They'll have the radio on but it's a risk to see yourself upon folks who will kill you instantly. Mal couldn't go since they know her face quite well when Vix volunteers herself.

At that, Negan laughed, dry and hoarse, but full of mirth. "Goddamn. I like you, Vix. You know that? You're a hell of a woman and your karate skills, damn. But you sure you're up for this?"

Vix's mouth twitched at the corners. "Yeah, well. Someone has to do it. I know for a prince charming man, you would go for my place."

Negan chuckled good-naturedly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"You sure about this?" Mal said.

"I'm sure about this Mal."

Negan goes to Vix. "You're a real heartbreaker, huh? I can see you, men trippin' over themselves to be with you, and you don't spare them a damn look unless they manage to show you they're something really special. Bet nobody fucked with you." Vix's smile faltered a bit, and Negan frowned. "Shit. What'd I say? I didn't mean it like- I'm not saying you were- that you were a fucking- I don't even know, I didn't mean it in a bad way, Vix-"

She brushed him off. "No. No, honey, I know you didn't. It's not that. It's just...that's not what I was like at all. The opposite of that, in fact."

Negan cocked his head at her. "What's that mean?"

"It means," Vix said, taking a breath, "That I was weak, before all this. Hell, even after all this, for a while. I always thought myself as I survived it's because of my pretty looks. A man... his name was Frank. He was... he wasn't a nice man. And I knew that, but I stayed anyway with him for a bit. And he never changed his ways, only got worse. Got violent, discriminating me." At that, Vix's voice became tight with sadness, and Negan chanced a hand on her shoulder as they walked in tandem. She covered the hand with her own, squeezing. "I never stood up to him. Only times I did were when... were when I got a little older." Disgust colored her voice at that.

Nausea churned in Negan's stomach that had little to do with dehydration. "What happened to that sick fuck? He dead now?" He hoped with everything in him that he was.

"Yes," Vix answered. "Yes, he's dead." Negan reached out, gave her a one-armed hug.

"Good. Fucking good. I hope you don't fucking mourn that bastard. If you don't mind me saying."

Vix managed a smile. "I don't."

"I know you're such a strong girl Vix, I like how women are stronger than men, have more balls than the saggier ones." She chuckles when she tips up to her toes to reach his height and kissed a peck on his stubbled cheek. "For good luck," she said.

Peeking out his tongue through his bottom lip, licking over his rabbit teeth. "Can you give me another in this spot?" He indicates his lips by licking them wet. "A little longer," he wiggled his eyebrows.

She giggles, leaning over to his ear and whispers to him. "I would but I don't think it's my lips you want to taste for yourself."

Negan blinked and turned where she went to Mal who saw the kiss and was death staring at both of them, squinting at Mal and trying to figure out if Vix meant that Negan liked to kiss Mal instead. Negan thinks about that, he found that he liked the times he was around with her. Mal, almost despite herself, seemed to be warming up to Negan, occasionally deeming Negan's crude jokes as worthy of laughter and his biting remarks as worthy of some of his own dry banter. Negan liked teasing her more than just about anything, he discovered. Liked getting under her skin, seeing how far he could nudge before Mal would start pushing back. All in good, fun of course. Mal was a stoic girl, her laughter rare, and when Negan managed to drag a small smile or a quiet chuckle out of her, he felt a rather over-the-top sense of satisfaction. Sure, he would like to taste a girl like her, but there's a lot of issues in that. However, it's very grateful to be unlikely friends.

Disgusted Mal badgered at Vix. "You know better, Vix."

"One kiss doesn't hurt anybody."

"Yeah, unless you're Negan." She smiled and held Mal's hands.

"I'll be fine."

Mal looked into her dark eyes, seeing how capable she is. "You could become a great leader. I'm proud of you to step up and lead others to follow you."

Vix shrugged, not thinking as important than Mal. "Maybe. For now, I'm gonna get going."

"Be safe and smart."

"I will."

She says her byes to Lalon, Lugh, and Alec before heading out into the cold breeze and unfamiliar grounds.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We got lucky, that's all."
> 
> Robert didn't like that answer, "Naw... There's no such thing as luck." His chuckled darkened. "See, what I believe is that everything happens for a reason." He explained sternly.
> 
> The sudden change in the Claimers attitude didn't rub her the wrong way, but she had cautious eyes on him, fingers grazing over the radio attached to her ankle. "Sure." Vix scoffed.
> 
> Robert's gaze never faltered, "I do. And I can prove it to you."

Winter wasn't bad at all, although there is a grey cloud overhead over Vix and it's gonna come down hard. It'll be the worst winter in any season. Walking along the path she hunts in the forest for a bit, searching for whatever food was available. Then Vix managed to draw her bow at alone snowy rabbit that crawled from its hole. Vix, as a talented archer since as a three year old, use the direction of the wind for the arrow trajectory. She breathed deep before letting the arrow sore through the air and hit her target. The arrow pierced right through the neck of the small animal, a good kill. Feeling victorious over finding some food Vix pulled the arrow out of her kill, examining it the size and weight of the rabbit.

"This won't last very long. Not much meat." She muttered out loud, tying the rabbit to her waist.

Suddenly out of the corner of her eye, Vix spotted a big single mule buck, walking over to a frozen creek, across her path. That buck is sure to be eighty pounds of meat. Very carefully and very slowly she sneaks with the wind in the east which covers her scent and the noise she walks on the snow.,

She slowly slides on a slope to catch up on a tree to hide. The deer unnoticed anything, scraping the bark of a branch bustle. Notching the arrow, pulled, aimed at the neck, and released. The deer didn't drop, he screeched and ran. She tracks the deer for almost what felt like a full mile, sinking each arrow into the animal twice while trying to ignore the freezing weather and minor frostbite from the exposed skin of her hands clutching the bow. Vix finally managed to track the deer out of the forest to an abandoned settlement, an empty warehouse. The sight alone sent shivers down her spine while trying to overcome the terrible feeling in her gut. Luckily the deer was dead when she found it right in the middle of the settlement, but before she got any closer she heard twigs snap underfoot.

She quickly drew her bow towards the sound. "Who's there?" Vix spoke, "Come out." She barked.

Then two men came from behind a tree, one was tall and had shaggy dark hair with a beard displaying his features. He held his hand out in a friendly posture while the other dressed rather warmly than the other with a beanie hat.

"Hello. We just want to talk." The stranger said.

"Any sudden moves and I'll put one right between your eyes. Ditto for buddy boy, over there." Vix kept her eyes trained on the intruders. "Put your weapons down, now."

Hesitantly the man with the beanie wasn't complying but the other dropped his rifle on the ground, hissing him to take his out. He threw the pistol at the ground. "What do you want?"

"Um, my name's Robert, this here is my friend James." He introduced himself, his voice as friendly yet deceiving. "We're from a larger group. Women, children, we're all very hungry."

Vix scoffed. "So am I. Women and children. We're all very hungry too." She lied, trying to give the intruders a sense that there were more of her.

Robert nodded, liking the spite of this girl. "Well uh, m-maybe we could offer a trade for some of that meat there. What do y' all need? Weapons, ammo, clothes-"

"Medicine." Vix didn't need medicine. She acted as desperate, wanted to lure them, wanting to see who they really were, if they are the Claimers or someone else. "You got any antibiotics?"

He looked at James and nodded. "W-We do, back at camp. You're welcome to follow us-"

"I'm not following you anywhere." Vix barked. "James can go get it. He comes back with what I need the deer is all yours. If anyone else shows up-"

"You put one right between my eyes." Robert seemed to nod, turning to James. "Two bottles of penicillin with a syringe, make it fast." James rose to object but was interrupted. "Get going!" Robert ordered.

James scoffed and he ran off into the woods leaving Vix and Robert behind in the abandoned settlement where Vix stared down the stranger, still aiming her bow right at him.

Vix takes the pistol and Robert's rifle, using it as her weapon now. They sheltered themselves from the cold in an abandoned building until James had returned. Vix contemplates if she should make the call on the radio the Saviors gave her and signal them. If they were the Claimers she would indeed let them finish and signal the alarms.

Robert has his hands over his small fire he made. "You know you really shouldn't be out here on your own."

Vix glared at the friendly mannered man. "I don't like company," she said sternly.

"I see. What's your name?"

Vix didn't even blink. "Why?"

Robert didn't seem to push as he understood not to trust complete strangers. "Whoever's hurt, you seem to care about them. I'm sure they are going to be just fine."

She like that he actually believed her false story and plead. "We'll see." She sighed.

Suddenly, there was a snarl outside. And then a pitched inhuman scream.

Both shot to their feet hearing that sound meaning only one thing, a Runner. The Runner ran into the small shack, emitting terrifying howls from its throat, searching the room blindly. It spots Vix and charges at the girl.

Flashing lights illuminated the shack with the smell of sweet gun powder invading Vix's nose and the sound of two gunshots, she realize that Robert had another gun with him as he shot the intruder dead.

"You had another gun?" She scoffed.

Robert shrugged. "Sorry. Now I'd like my rifle back now."

With the harsh screams of more Runners they stormed across the icy fields towards the sound of those gunfire's.

"No," Vix retorted, "You have your pistol."

He huffed, "I hope you know how to use that thing."

"I've had some practice." Vix muttered aiming the rifle against her shoulder before the horde of soulless creatures roam the whole building. Each shot she took time as they come in. Release, eject bolt of empty case, load another bullet in the chamber, aimed, and fire. And repeat several more at a precious target to the head. She had to help Robert push a shelf to barricade the doors. Hands almost reached her face as the shelf blocks the door, backing up as Robert shot inside when the Runners come inside and Vix scoping outside through the windows.

When too many were hoarding in a large circle, Vix began reaching into her backpack, pulling out a couple of bottles of alcohol she brought in the trip. After tying some rags to the brims and setting them ablaze, she had tossed the two Molotov's at the abomination. The searing heat had erupted from the hardened shell of the large group, sending all the creatures into a fury of screams that seem to shake Robert's very being. Then she takes aim with her rifle, shooting out all the blazing Runners.

Soon it went quiet. The barrel was smoking from the shot she took against.

"No infected." Vix sighed with relief yet disbelief, knowing she knows he's definitely a Claimer.

"Yeah? What did I tell you?" He chuckled. "Alright, let's check on that buck of ours."

Vix followed Robert as he drags the deer inside since now the body will be cold enough to cut and gut and cut the meat out.

He knelt by the fire, rubbing his hands together. "Ha, whew. I'd say we make a pretty good team."

Vix still didn't trust the guy, but he was kind enough to help her through the hoard. However, his eyes tell something else, looking at her the way any man looked at Vix. Beautiful, passionate creature. Just a toy. He is a Claimer and her guts never lied to her. "We got lucky, that's all."

Robert didn't like that answer, "Naw... There's no such thing as luck." His chuckled darkened. "See, what I believe is that everything happens for a reason." He explained sternly.

The sudden change in the Claimers attitude didn't rub her the wrong way, but she had cautious eyes on him, fingers grazing over the radio attached to her ankle. "Sure." Vix scoffed.

Robert's gaze never faltered, "I do. And I can prove it to you."

She then looked at him, curious yet suspicious.

"You see this winter has been especially cruel. A few months back, I- we had a huge group, doing something for a change. But we're attacked and we split. Still contacting yet it's difficult for us in the winter."

Vix had sat by the fire warming her hands and then turns the radio on for the other to listen as Robert continued his story.

"A few of my men went with the others. Only a few came back..." Robert explained, "It's crazy when he heard who killed them and also destroyed our foundation. A man named Negan and a little blonde girl."

Vix felt her heart jump out of her chest as Robert smirked deviously, almost sinisterly evil.

"You see? Everything happens for a reason."

She picks up the rifle and aimed it at Robert's head, stepping back and wait for the Saviors to come.

"Now don't get upset. It's just reasoning. How about we bargain?" Robert assured.

"By selling people to you so you can rape and damage them into nothing but an animal. I don't think so." She growls and he laughs, loving the fire of this beautiful girl.

"You know who I am, do ya?"

"A Claimer. An abomination."

"We're a simple group. See, claim, take have. You steal or broke a rule, we execute you. Our system has worked for awhile. James now!"

She turns, aiming the rifle at... nothing. The wide door are bare and Robert itches for any sign of his pal.

He waited. And waited and waited. James didn't come back.

Before he charged the unnoticed Vix he was toppled on the ground. Hissing a heavy boot pressured his cheek, his eyes travel up at the figure pointing a bat with a blade so close to the pupil of his eye. "Well, ain't this a whole load of shit in my boot. Now, you and that bitch been trading guns. How you did even get those guns is beyond my belief but you can beg all your live but I won't give a damn shit."

He swings the bat at his head, the knife slicing the cranium spilt open. "You OK, Vix?"

"Alright. What happened to James?"

"Mal killed the son of a bitch and found where Glory is, and she is willing herself as bait, which I should of been with her. But once she drags them towards the group in the square, it'll be a blood bath while the rest will conquer the town itself in Silver Lake."


	11. Chapter 10

A loud revving engine drive through the thick snow, passing all the house by to get to the large cabin by itself, proud and strong. The Shakespearians lived only a house away from the cabin where Glory gets her clothes back on from nude painting and steps out the railing to see a small figure in a large motorcycle.

Mal stops the bike and yells at them. "I did told you how you'll die."

"Thee cameth this way just to killeth me, thee little wench? Doth thee wanteth death's kiss, because this day thee wilt."

"I don't even know what the fuck you're saying, but I'm your biggest enemy. I destroyed the KillGames and killed your pathetic shit leader." Glory's stare darkened.

"Thou art outnumbered. Guess Negan hath gone not restful of thee, not enough for a man's release. We has't more guns than thee-"

"The Claimers had _the_ guns, you didn't before. I know where they are and you'll never reach them in time." Glory laughs as the rest of her men do, but suddenly stopped when Mal chuckles as well, a devilish smile that Negan does when he's threatening someone.

Mal then widespread her arms out. "So, come and get me if you can."

She turns around the bike and drives at a steady but quick speed as the howling of Glory commands her people to stop Mal. The men gathering out of there cottages, miserly running after her with no attempts to fire at her, but suddenly hands had gripped her side, almost revving the handle way off course.

"Ho, I got that lady!" The Shakespearian commander Brutar shouted.

She had struggled from the tight grasp before pulling out moving her foot. "Get your ass over-"

_Bang_

She shoots him in the head and kicks his face as he tumbles into a snowy pit.

"Oh alas! Shoot that lady! " A distant voice ordered.

"B-But Glory said-"

"Fuck Glory, shoot that lady concluded, be it. "

Mal kept her head down from the shots whistling through the air as the bike steadily runs until she makes it to the course of the forest, driving through the abandoned neighborhood surrounded by the Shakespearian, hopelessly trying to grab the girl. The cold wind stung her face and snowflakes had hit her eyes while trying to kick off any bandit that came in contact with her.

Suddenly one shot it hits the tire, air hissed out the tire and Mal's thrown from the bike, colliding down the bottom snow of a small hill Sight was blurred from the sudden impact, her body isn't damage from the comfort of the snow, but to her horror when it returned the bikes damage and the men are closing, and she's not close enough the Saviors.

She prays if they notice where she is now.

"She fell down the hill somewhere! I don't see her though." A voice shouted from above causing Mal to hide under the hill, her back sliding on the rock as she makes a quick yet open move to run across the snow filled to a bathroom building is an the Saviors would be. Inside she regroups herself, loading a clip of a AK-47 rifle as the sound of footfalls in the snow are driving closer.

Climbing over the window, she needed to draw them in the middle to where there will be stairs, where the frozen lake is. Breathing deeply, putting the safety off and ran out in the opening, firing the men coming in. Few were shot in head, neck, chest and arms, and they fired back, close calls by her feet as she jumps on her stomach to a boulder for cover. Putting another full clip on, ready to fire she gets the radio off her waist and calls the signal.

"NOW!"

And with an artillery of semi-automatics, rifles, and pistols, The Saviors take down the whole crowd of them, bullets blowing most of their bodies, a huge pool of blood seamed into the snow. 

Up on the hill, more come down the stairs when a few were being shot by the Saviors. Bud crouches over to Mal, pulling her into another barricade. "You cover me, I'm heading up there."

"Negan called, Glory left into the town. He'll find her. The rest will be at the fence where they carry their weapons. Be careful!" He pats her shoulder and she nods before she jumps out, shooting any body as Bud covers her, sniping many heads shots. Climbing the stairs, shot after shot, one she kicks his left and tumbles down with a snap of his neck, and reaching the top she takes herself a break.

The gun poised in her shoulder, scouting for anyone but sees the huge lake, the tall mountains are visible to the eye. The echoes of gunshots and screams kept going as Mal finds a trail where it led into the town, and she follows it with a full marathon.

-:-:-:-:-

Negan found against the enemies inside the town of Silver Lake. The whole town became a battlefield in many spots, he wondered how many people are there in this shit group.

His whole body was a blur of coordinated movement. A hand grabbed Negan's shoulder, but he turned into the pull, and his left hand shot out with whiplike speed, pulling the guns trigger into the mans throat. Negan fired, slashed up and wide, then left and across. Crossing over to a car to jump and cover by the guns aiming at him while his people found somewhere else.

"Come out of there now!"

"Fuck..." he murmured, his voice sounding full of bloodlust.

Slowly getting up, the man screams at him. "Drop your weapon!" Negan throws his gun at his chest before he picks it up.

Then a powerful throw of Michelle like a spear and jabs at between his eyes, a full strike of the blade and his bat. He cheekily whoops, fist pumping as he pulls the bat out. "Bullseye!"

-:-:-:-:-

Lugh's hands shook at the close calls he had endured in her daring fires of the battle, few times Alec helps him along. He was frozen holding his empty Walther towards the fresh dead body of one of the men, still pulling the trigger, hearing the hammer clink against the empty chamber. Finally, he drew in a deep breath letting his arms fall to his lap. Lugh had never been in a tension like this before, he fought before, but for Lugh he saw more blood on his hands it made him sick to him stomach. Tears brimmed his emerald eyes, falling down his frostbitten cheeks, the cold wind froze them to her skin, but Lugh mentally slapped himself awake loading another clip into his handgun. "They'll be taking the weaponry up east." He said to Alec who goes down and reloads another clip in.

"We're half-way in the town. You sure you're alright with this?"

He appreciated his concerns, it warmth him up of someone understand the hardship of killing people.

"I'll be fine. Cover me in three, two, one, now."

Alec hold the trigger, raining a whole load of bullets as it hit some people and others not. Lugh ran towards, finding himself inside a Lodge of some kind, kneeling down behind a counter. The teen could hear the distant shouting and gunfire from outside. Peeking over the counter he saw the double doors leading to the outside, and five men were carrying a large box and they were rushing out getting it out.

Quickly he sneaks towards the men closer, counter by counter until he's far reached.

"Hurry up!" One bellows in deep threats. "We need to fuck up the Saviors or I will fuckin' use you as a shield you pieceless shit!"

"I'm getting there, fuck!"

"Now-"

With a _rat-a-tat_ continuation, the men drop immediately and Lugh comes up to inspect the box. Opening it was a .50mm caliber M2 machine gun. If the Claimers have big enough firepower he had to warn the Saviors so he calls on the radio to Negan. "In the Lodge. One of them had a weapon. There still be more up in town and need to find them before they leave."

" _Team Dick slapping squad, advance to the town full erection at them. You RK's go to the weaponry and stop those bastards from escaping_." Negan orders and Lugh runs down to the town, outside to the strong blowing wind and through the heavy snowy mist.


	12. Chapter 11

Mal could still hear the distant gunshots. She ran so far she was so tired, breathing as much air as she can, her legs feeling like jelly from exertion.

A snow storm was coming over the settlement, raising Mal's chances of remaining hidden until she hopefully finds Glory. She only hoped that Negan and her friends were at least alive as well. Mal walks through the alleyway, the distant sound of an alarm bell and men running around and barking orders. She moved swiftly through the storm and closer to the enemy.

Mal had found her way into a soothing warm restaurant, but not wanting to linger any longer to enjoy the warmth. It's empty, inhabited although kept a watch behind her back. When coming to the seats a door opens and she ducked down behind the booths. Glory's covered in blood, her clothes in whitw flasks of snow, and her hand has been shot, sports of blood that hit an artery.

"Thou art easy to track!" Glory snarled before turning her attention to the small fire beside her and knocked over candle.

Mal took the distraction to move away from the woman into cover behind one of the many booths much to Glory's pleasure, close enough to shoot dead center.

"Heh. That's alright." She said blocking the door. "There's nowhere to wend! Thee wanteth out?" She held up a set of keys jingling them, "you has't to cometh and receiveth the keys. "

Mal's chest heaved as she was being played in a cat and mouse game, using Glory's voice to pinpoint where she was as she talked in taunting ways. Gun still ready for a shot, she moved from booth to booth, looking to kill the bitch. The fire began to grow much to Glory's uncaring mood as her determined eyes scanned the restaurant for the girl.

"I has't to admit, thee knoweth thee hadst me thither." She laughs, "For a second thee shaked mine faith. But only for a second."

Mal felt the voice draw closer. She tightened her grip on the gun.

"You know I said that you were untouched, too clean. I was wrong. You were untouched for a long time." She suddenly speaks English language for the first time.

Mal's fingers were twitching in anticipation of attacking a strike, rage forming into her.

"Charlie told many things you've done for him. You weren't much help but you were enough for him. It's why I bet you, to have a taste of a pitiful soul. Just come out, Mal. You'll die anyway in this battle."

"FUCK YOU!" Mal screamed, charging from the corner, firing as Glory leaped on a booth. Mal trots there but Glory jumps behind her back, slamming her face against the wooden table. Blood gushed her nose, head spinning before she grabs her machete and slices only her cheek. She screams, taking the gun away before Mal pulled away into hiding again.

"That was good, little girl." Glory chuckled before holstering the gun and pulled out her small sword. "It's gonna be alright." She whispered deviously. "You know something kid? I'm beginning to think Negan has fond you, even when you killed his people before. He would like that in you, a weak small child who's so desperate to be full inside, to let him have the taste for himself and to see what makes you beg for more as he drives his cock inside a weak little girl that's trying to play the hero."

Mal charged from behind cover, leaping onto Glory's back, catching her by surprise once again before driving a couple of mad punches to the face. Glory slams Mal against a window. Glass shatters, the inflicted pain shot through Mal's body yet didn't let go of her hold around Glory's neck. She pulls and slams at Mal, trying to pry her arm off her neck, eyes blinking slowly and having a purple face. Outside Mal hears Infected groans coming up to the broken window, and as they were close enough she uses her weight to spin Glory towards the hungry hands.

Teeth bite into her flesh, hands ripping in her stomach, her screams squealed as it stops by an Infected gnawing on her throat. "I told you how you'll die." She said.

" _Team Dick squad. Advance to the town. You RK's go to the weaponry and stop those bastards from escaping_." Negan calls on the radio.

And she books out of the burning restaurant, the ripped and eaten Glory infested by the vicious Infected.

-:-:-:-:-

The intense pain had raided Lalon's leg, causing him to stir awake from being knocked out cold. He was slashing, pivoting with his spear. No trouble in fighting when a surprise attack almost shot him and he sprained his ankle, knocking himself cold against the cement boulder.

The pain had engulfed his entire ankle as the fatigued teen struggled to his feet to no avail. Instead, he began to crawl to a house for cover, knowing he's only about thirty feet away from the fence where the weapons are. He needs to get there, Vix and Lugh should be there yet might have to fight against the enemies. He crawls on his stomach, using his upper body strength to drag himself there.

Suddenly the air knocked right out of him erupting in his stomach. He was flipped over as a boot stomps before him. A not too old man with big nerdy glasses points a gun at him. "Hello, half-breed," the Claimer snarls.

Lalon growls when the Claimer takes his spear. "Claim. Now let's go to the fence, give this to Glory or the Claimers for a siege fire. I know you work with that asshole and his whore." He throws Lalon up and he screams as his weight burns his leg and walk over to the fences building when Infected heard the gunfire and screams and are following behind them closely.

It felt miles away for Lalon to walk, he can't keep up. He occasionally trips, the Claimer hissing him, pulling him up, pulling his long hair.

"Give me my spear," he pleads. "It'll help me walk."

The gun aims directly at his forehead. The Claimer takes the spear and breaks in half, throwing the blade away. Oh did he made a mistake and Lalon's rage infuriated him. He takes the wooden stick, using the weight to walk. He tries to walk faster as the Infected were behind their tails, the grey decayed arms reaching if close enough, rotting mouths wide open as the groans and moans became louder and louder with the herd growing bigger.

At the fence it was locked and the Claimer cursed, not having any keys and takes his jacket off. "We'll climb up. I need you for bait, for Negan to sacrifice your sorry ass." He throws the jacket over the wire.

"I can't. My leg is in bad shape."

"I don't give a shit!"

"We can fight off the Infected, they're coming close."

He slams the gun to his face. "Shut the fuck up you-"

In that moment as he was close to Lalon he thrusts the broken spear in his abdomen. He pivots enough but the wood slashes deep enough for the muscle to rip open. The googled-eye Claimer kick him again, Lalon cried out once more and fell hard on the ground. He then mounted him, holding his hand down by the boot. He holds his stomach, nothing bursting out and staring down at Lalon he smirks. Bending down, blood on his fingers he makes three straight lines on Lalon's cheeks and forehead, biasing Lalon.

"You half-breed warrior bitch. I don't need you. Only your head." Lalon waits for the gun to pierce him.

Suddenly in a split second a blade slices sideways down to his left shoulder and the torso, and the body splits in half from Lugh mauling him.

"Oh smokes Lugh!" He exclaimed. "You cut the man split open." He clasp Lugh's hand and is pulled up.

"I saved your ass back there."

The Infected were coming closer as Lugh swings his ax at the chains. It rattles but doesn't break, making him swing a couple of times. "Just leave me Lugh. I ain't much use." He said.

"I'm not leaving you here, man." When he slides the ax in-between the chains and pulled it up the ax snaps. "Hell." Turning towards the infested hungry herd, side-by-side with their broken weapons they fought together, slashing all the Infected in a swift hit, knowing in a moment they can't do it anymore. Although tired, they'll try their hardest to survive.

"Well, dying with my best friend is worth it." Lalon smiles.

He smiles back. "Yes, it is. But not today."

-:-:-:-:-

Vix sneak out the building, seeing the Claimers putting all the cargo in a military car. She scours her area, looking at anything to use. There were five men at the truck, the fence is gonna be littered with Infected and by her side across is a button to open the gates. She could attack head on, use the truck as cover.

But one of the men calls to spotting Vix and she runs to the truck, blaring her fires, hitting one in the neck, and fell down, covering from all the gunshots completely destroying the car itself. Glass shatters overtop of her, tires blew out, there was only one way when she finds the button. She hangs the automatic gun on the review mirror and underneath the truck she slides her bow towards the Claimers.

"I surrender," she calls, adding a lie after that. "I can tell you where the Saviors will come. They come over to Silver lake, cutting off the roads by trees and ambush you there."

"Get up and slowly come forward."

She raises her arms up, standing slowly to show herself. "I'm unarmed. Just please don't hurt me." She playfully pities herself, making her seem so nubile. The young shaved headed Claimer gingerly takes up towards Vix, gun aiming at her, checking for any weapons, and he has the keys.

"I can tell you the routes of everything. The ambushes in route nine."

"I heard enough girly." Said the burly bearded Claimer. The bald head went to check her pockets but she pivots her body, grabbing her knife and hold it against his neck.

"Drop your guns now!" She commands and they stood there, unfazed.

"God damn you Kevin."

"C'mon, please man. Don't you do it."

"I have to, you bastard," and he shoots, hitting the man as Vix uses his body as cover, dragging him to the button and slammed it. Cowering at the truck she waits out of the corner to look at the Infected coming in, one took a bite in the arm and they start shooting at the Infected.

Vix gets up, taking a bullet at them and two went over to the truck. She needed to persuade them as fools and give up.

"What you said was a lie," he calls over.

"Your friends are dead. If you surrender I'll let you go."

"Bullshit. The Saviors want us all dead, no prisoners and I don't think so missy. Your friends are gonna regret this, all of them will die."

In a blink of a eye, Vix sees Lugh and Lalon outside the fence, fending off Infected, getting tired and cornered. The tough choice she had to make, wanting to stop the weapons get taken away or to see her friends killed off.

So she runs towards them, firing few Infected. Lugh and Lalon turn to Vix who opens the locket with the keys. "The weapons?"

"I'll have to warn the Saviors, maybe there'll be-"

The road was a large jeep driving in fast speed and a motorcycle behind the truck, chasing down the Claimers. The RK's smiling in relief to see who were chasing the Claimers.

-:-:-:-:-

The road was wet from the slushed snow, the Claimers were in front as Negan drove the jeep up, coming up their tails. It was easy to chase them and bump into the wheels to toss them over. However, the back gate opens to reveal the .50 caliber machine gun blazing at Negan. He swerves side to side, not wanting anything to get hit, ducking at times as the bullets hit the window. Then he hits the engine, air hissed out, and Negan swerves out to the left.

And Alec drives up and Mal leans out his side and shoots one of the wheels. She hits it, causing them to swerve a bit, the man with the gun slams himself although recovers, reloading and firing at the motorcycle. Alec takes them out the road as Mal snipes the man with the gun.

Negan drives up the ditch to the road, trying to pass by him. It was tricky as he moved side to side, no opening to sneak up. Finally with a heavy foot to the petal, he gets beside the Claimer, looking at each other and Negan jumps over to the other car. Grabbing his arms on the wheel, piercing the bat to his stomach and swerved the wheel hard. The Claimers falls out the side as Negan was inside the jeep and fell hard into the steep ditch.

Alec makes it, parking the bike and both of them ran to the wreckage. Mal's heart wrenched of the thought Negan hurt or dying. Before coming down they saw a rustle in the heavy snow and a groan.

"I'm alright. Fuck," he curses, crawling up the ditch. "I'm too old for this shit."

Alec laughs. "You are, man."

"Shut the fuck up." Alec pulls Negan up. "We got the weapons and boy, so we have some goodies. Makes me question how these dirtbags get this stuff."

"Abandonment from the Flyer Frontiers." Alec suggests. "We took a couple to ourselves as well."

Suddenly in all the rush Mal sits down and both the men catch her, concerning strained their faces. "You alright, Mal?" Negan asks, petting her hair.

Mal just smiles and huffs a laugh. "All the time I've been in any war, there's costs and consequences. Everyone dies, no winners or losers, just survivors. Now I'm smiling. I'm smiling because we've won. We've won for a purpose."

Negan immediately succumbs to laughter. "We did Mal. We fuckin' did it."

" _Negan, Bud here. We took everyone down, no casualties. Glory and fucktard men are all dead, no survivors. A few Claimers escaped. Regina and Steven groups will track them, see where they actually have a compound, an area_."

Negan calls over his radio. "We know where those fuckers are. At Pittsburgh. Follow back home and take a rest. We have a celebration to do."

" _Ok, boss_. _It's a win-win chicken din_."

"Man, I need to get home. What a long day it was guys."

"It was Negan." Alec said, walking back to the motorcycle. "I can't fit the two of you in my bike."

"I'll take a walk," Mal requested. "You can ride with him."

"Hell to the no. Let's all walk there and our people will pick us up. And Mal, you'll have a good time to celebrate." He pulled Mal to a tight hug and she accepts the giddy comfort of Negan.


	13. Part 2: Family Business

_~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~_   
_Sam stared at the car. Not at the words, but at the image. It was girl about his own age. She wore a leather joker jacket custom that's been hand made and looks similar to the Bounty Hunter and Tom's friend_ **_Negan_ ** _, and blue jeans. She had hair that was thick and long. She wore a leather holster, which held a pistol that_ **_Tom_ ** _used to have, a_ **_Colt Python_ ** _. She carried a machete. Behind her was a heap of dead zombies. The pairing was incredibly lifelike- more like a photo than a painting, but there hadn't been a working camera for years._

_What held Sam's attention- what riveted him- was her expression and the familiar face he might of know, like he used to seen her. The artist must have seen her, because he caught her with a blend of emotions on her beautiful face. Anger, or perhaps defiance with a little smile, tightened her full lips into an inflexible line. Pride lifted her chin. But her baby blue eyes held such a deep and ancient sadness that Sam's breath caught in his throat. He knew that sadness. It haunted Tom eyes every day, the day when he lost someone important, and lost another as well._

_This girl knew. This girl seen some he's seen. Maybe worse. But this girl is so familiar. Does he know her? He definitely knows her but it can't be. Tom and Sam lost her after_ **_Lucius attack_ ** _. It could be._

_And there he looks and his heart explodes from surprise and almost cries in front of his friends. She's_ **_alive_ ** _and well, Sam belts in his thoughts._

_The name in the caption bar at the bottom of the card: "_ **_Mal_ ** _."_   
_~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~_


	14. Chapter 12

Sam Morgan couldn't hold a job, so he took to killing.

It was the family business. He barely knew his biological family- and by family he meant his guardian, Tom- and he definitely didn't like the idea of "business." Or work. The only part of the deal that sounded like it might be alright for him than just work was going out into the Ruins.

He done it before. Sure, he'd gone couple years inside the Fairview but went through hundred simulations in gym class and in the Scouts and trained vigorously by Tom, but they never let kids or teens do any real killing. Not before they hit seventeen.

"Why not?" he asked his Scoutmaster, a fat guy named Rodney who used to be a TV weatherman back in the day. Sam was twelve at the time and hated this cheery place and their strict rules.

"Because killing's the sort of thing you should learn from your folks," said Rodney.

"I have folks," Sam countered. "Tom and I been through it. I can take care of myself."

Rodney had stared at him. "Wow. I didn't know you were related to him. He's you father, huh? Well, there's your answer, kid. Nobody better to teach you the art of killing than a professional killer like Tom." Rodney pause and kick his lips nervously. "Yet you have to be seventeen."

"No," Sam said with huge annoyance. "He's not my father. But he doesn't keep me inside these walls."

Tom is a Bounty Hunter all the way back to his first encounter of the Black Night. He was graduating as a police officer when it all broke down; it was his birthday and the day his little sister Melody died. Many years of being tortured by his past, he moved on and found Sam and other kids in the Flyer Frontiers quarantine zone, not wanting them as soldiers, only survivors like Tom. The curled chestnut brown hair man with the British accent is the most famous Bounty Hunter like the others, and him working in one of the Eleven Towns, which they call it here Fairview, Tom has been accepted to many people and for his help. Once in awhile he hears them call Tom the names he was given: Fast Tommy, Tom the Killer, Tom the Hunter, Tom the Hero.

Tom didn't think of those names, especially the one calling him a hero. He's not one, and he killed before but is neither a killer.

Sam had asked Tom on his thirteenth birthday, and Tom had said no. Again. It wasn't a discussion. Just "No." from Mayor Gregory.

That was more than four years ago, and now Sam was six weeks past his seventeenth birthday. He had four more weeks grace to find a paying job before town ordinance cut his rations by half. Sam hated being in that position, and if one more person gave him the "seventeen and free" speech, he was going to scream. He hated that as much as when people saw someone doing hard work and they said crap like, "Holy smokes, he's going at that like he's seventeen and out of food."

Like it was something to be happy about. Something to be proud of. Working your butt off for the rest of your life when you should work on something more important than getting ration dollars.

His buddy Benny Chong said it was a sign of the growing cultural oppression that was driving post apocalyptic humanity toward acceptance of the new slave state. Sam had know freaking idea what Benny meant or if there was even meaning in anything he said. But he nodded agreement because the look on Benny's face always made it seem like he knew exactly what was what.

At home, before he even finished eating his dessert, Tom had said, "If I want to talk about you joining the family business, are you going to chew my head off? Again?"

Sam stared venomous death at Tom and said, very clearly and distinctly, "I. Don't. Want. A. Stupid. Job."

"I'll take that as a 'no', then."

"Don't you think it's a little strange for people to work before the Black Night when they should work on something more important like the Ruins."

"You asked me to take you out on kills."

"Right! And every time I did you-"

Tom cut him off. "There's a lot more to what I do, Sam."

"Yeah, there probably is, and maybe if you just change this town, everyone wouldn't be such a coward and hide behind these walls. The Saviors knew that and also did before took half their stuff easily."

That stalled the conversation. Tom stalked out of the room and banged around the kitchen for awhile, and Sam threw himself down on the couch.

Tom and Sam talked about Infected. They had every reason to, but they never did talk about the incident in the quarantine zone, with Lucius charging in the place. It was an image that was seated into him, changed into the boy he was into what he is now.

The losing of his best friend, Mal.

Sam remembered the screams of feared people, tanks breaking over the fence gates. He remembered the wet heat on his face as Tom's tears and blood fell on him as he had beaten up Tom and climbed up the hill, not looking back at the demolished city.

But of all of it, Sam remembered a single last image. As Mal ran to find Tom and she never made it back or out.

That was Sam's oldest memory. He hated himself and Tom for abandoning her. He hated that even Tom tried his hardest to find her and he came back with nothing.

In his mind Mal was no longer with him. She's most likely dead or wandering as a Infected. Maybe alive but he doubts it for the past six years.

Tom came back into the living room, looked at the remains of the dessert on the table, then looked at Sam on the couch.

"I'll sign the papers so you can still get full rations."

Sam gave him a long, withering stare.

"You're right. It's time for everyone to know what's out there. Bring your friends at nine sharp."

Sam gleamed at Tom, jumping off the couch and hugged the Bounty Hunter.

-:-:-:-:-

Sam was appalled to learn that the apocalypse came with homework.

"Why do we have to study this stuff?" He demanded. "We already know what happened. People started turning into Infected, the Infected ate just about everyone, they become Infected, but the they mutate and who are not too much decayed are Runners, so the moral in this tale is: Try not to get bit and die."

Tom stared at him with narrowed crystallized blue eyes. "Are you deliberately trying to be an idiot, or is it a natural gift?"

"I'm serious. We know what happened."

"Really? Then how come you spent most of the last winter complaining that no one my age tells anyone your age the truth about the living dead?"

"Telling us is one thing. Essays and pop quizzes are a whole different thing."

"Because heaven forbid you should have to remember anything we told you."

Sam raised his eyebrows mysteriously and tapped his temple. "I have it all right here in the vast storehouse of knowledge that is me."

"Okay, boy genius, then what started the plague?"

"Easy one," Sam said. "Nobody knows."

"What are the leading theories?"

San jabbed his fork into a big piece of buttered yam, shoves it into his mouth, and chewed before he spoke. Tom hated when he speaks with his mouth full. He hated it when Sam chewed with his mouth open. That was when he was younger but learned his manners.

"Radiation, virus, bioweapon, toxic waster, solar flares, act of God."

Tom sipped his coffee and said nothing, but he gave Sam the look.

Sam sighed and swallowed. "Okay," he said, "at first people thought it was radiation from a satellite."

"Space probe," corrected Tom.

"But that doesn't make sense, because one satellite-"

"Space probe."

"-wouldn't carry enough radioactive material to spread over the entire world."

"We think."

"Sure," conceded Sam, "but in science class they told us even if one of the nuclear power plants did a whatchamacallit, there-"

"Meltdown."

"-wouldn't be enough radiation to cover the entire planet even thought it had more radioactive materials than a satellite."

Tom sighed. Sam smiled.

"What conclusion can you draw from that?"

"The world wasn't destroyed by radioactive alien space Infected."

" _Probably_ wasn't destroyed by radioactive alien space Infected," Tom corrected. "How about a virus?"

Sam cut a piece of chicken and ate it. Tom was a great cook, and this was one of his better meals. Yam, broiled chicken with mushrooms and almonds, and rich green kale. A loaf of steaming bread made from the last of the winter wheat sat near where Sam could plunder it.

"Dylan's dad says that a virus needs a living hosts and Infected aren't alive. He said that maybe bacteria or a fungus was sustaining the virus. Which could mutate just like the Runners."

"Do you know what a bacterium is?"

"Sure... it's a bug thingy that makes you sick."

"God, I love it when you displayed the depth of your knowledge. It makes me proud to be your guardian."

"Screw you, British man."

They grinned at each other.

"You'll train my friend as well."

"I will, but they need a few months at least to be like your level. Once we do, I'm gonna take you out soon with the others and you and I show them to survive."

"Like you did with us? Ledger, Brenda, Anthony, Edward... M-Mal..."

They stood quiet as her name strained into their minds and brought memories.

"Yes," Tom coughed it out. "I even want to talk to Gregory about things in Fairview. Making packs with the other Bounty Hunters like myself and with the Saviors. We need more people with us than rely on the whole Eleven Towns and Tradepost."

There was a knock on the door.

"Must be them, especially that Jessie girl."

"She's just a friend."

"What about Clary?"

"Shut up," Sam shot to his feet and crossed the kitchen to the back door. He was smiling as he undid the locks.

Dylan Lake and Benny Chong stood on the back pooch.

"What's up," said Dylan, flaking his tongue out and Benny rolled his eyes.


	15. Chapter 13

The following weekend Sam and Benny had picked up the Saturday edition of the Town Pump, because it had the biggest wanted section. All of the easy jobs, like working in stores, had been long-since snapped up. They didn't need to work on the farms since a lot of the greenhouses are busy. Besides, it meant dropping out of school completely. They didn't love school, but it wasn't too bad, and school had softball, free lunches, and girls. The ideal fix was a part-time job that paid pretty good and got the ration board off their backs, so over the next several weeks, they applied for anything that sounded easy.

Sam and Benny clipped out a bunch of want ads and tackled them one at a time, having first categorized them by "most possible money," "coolness," and "I don't know what it is, but it sounds okay." They passed on anything that sounded bad right from the get-go.

The first on their list was for a fence tester.

That was interesting, because they were actual Infected on the other side of the fence that kept the town of Fairview separate from the great Ruins. Most of the Infected were far away, standing in the field or wandering clumsily toward any movement. There were rows of poles with brightly colored streamers set far out in the fields, and with every breeze the fluttering of the streamers attracted the Infected, constantly drawing them away from the fence. When the wind calmed, the creatures began lumbering in the direction of the movement in the town side if the fence. Sam wanted to get close to a Infected. He tries to sneak out the gates, to hunt them down as practice. None in the town except the guards, and scouters go out and fend off the Infected, and anyone else stays inside the gates. Sam hated that.

The shotgun guy watches over the teens, riding a horse. Sam and Benny had to walk the fence line and stop every six or ten feet, grip the chain links, and shake it to make sure there were no breaks or rusted weak spits. That was okay for the first mile, but afterward the noise attracted the Infected, and by the middle of the third mile, Sam had to grab, shake, and release pretty fast to keep his fingers from getting bit. He wanted a weapon to push the Infected off the fence, stab through the chain and be done with.

Sam got his chance today. The Infected was a squat man in the rags of what had once been a police officer's uniform. Sam stood as close to the safe side of the fence as he dared, and the Infected lumbered toward him, mouth working as if chewing, face as pal as dirty snow. He looked right into the creature's eyes, saw dust and emptiness. No reflection of any kind, nothing. Kids would be afraid of this officer, but Sam didn't. He've seen the terror, but he also knew they used to be people once, doing the lives and worked, had families.

Then the Infected lunged at him and tried to bite its way through the chain links. The movement was so sudden that there were no tensions, no twitch of facial muscles.

Benny yelped and back-pedaled away from the fence with Sam staring, wanting to quiet the Infected- quiet was a silver spike where people who are bitten are quieted, the silver into someone's skull so they won't turn, and people say that than killing or bashing a couple of Infected or Children of Lazarus- then Benny stepped in a steaming pile of horse crap and fell hard on his butt.

All the guards burst out laughing.

Sam and Benny quit at lunch.

-:-:-:-:-

The next morning Sam and Benny went to the far side of town and applied as fence technicians.

The fence ran for hundreds of miles and encircled the town and its harvested fields, so this meant a lot of walking while carrying yet another grumpy old guy's toolbox. In the fury three hours they got chased by a Infected who had squeezed through a break in the fence.

"Why don't they just stab all the Infected who come up to the fence?" Sam asked their supervisor.

" 'Cause folk would get upset," said the man, a scruffy-looking guy with bushy eyebrows and a tic at the corner of his mouth. "Some of them walkers are relatives of folks in town and those folks have rights regarding their kin. Been all sorts of trouble about it, so we keep the fence in good shape, and intestinal fortitude to grant permission for the fence guards to do what's necessary."

"That's stupid," said Sam.

"That's people," said the supervisor.

Sam didn't have the energy to argue.

-:-:-:-:-

There was only one opening for the next job- "carpet coat salesman"- which was okay because Benny wanted to stay home and rest his feet. Benny hated walking. So Sam showed up, neatly dressed in his best jeans and a clean T-shirt, and with his hair as combed as it would ever get without glue. There wasn't much danger in selling carpet coats, but Sam wasn't slick enough to get the patter down. Sam was superseded they'd be hard to sell, because everybody had a carpet coat or two. Best thing in the world to have on if some infected were around and feeling bitey and won't be smelly from the cadaverine or rotting flesh. What he discovered, though, was that everyone who could thread a needle was selling them, so competition was fierce, and sales were few and far between. The door-to-door guys worked on straight commission, too.

The lead salesman, a slimy joker named Nix, would have same wear a long-sleeves carpet coat- low knap for summer, shag for winter- and then use a device on him that was supposed to simulate the full-strength bite of an adult male runner. This metal "biter" couldn't break the skin through the coat- and here Nix rolled into his spiel about human bite strength, throwing around terms like PSI, avulsion, and post decay dental-ligament strength- but it punched really hard, and the coat was so hot, the sweat ran down under Sam's clothes. When he went him that night, he weighed himself to see how many pounds he'd sweated off. Just one, but Sam did have a lot of pounds to spare from his muscles.

"This one looks good," said Benny over breakfast the next morning.

San read out loud from the paper. "'Pit Thrower.' What's that?"

"I don't know," Benny said with a mouth full of toast. "I think it has something to do with barbecuing."

It didn't. Pit throwers worked in teams, dragging dead infected off the backs of carts and tossing them into the constant blaze at the bottom of a quarry. The woman who ran orientation kept talking about "parts," and went on and on about the risk of secondary infection; then she pasted on the darkest smile Sam had ever seen and she even pulled her sleeve and flexed her biceps to see the physical benefits that came from constant lifting, turning, and throwing.

The other jobs offered by the quarry included ask soaked- "because we don't want infected smoke drifting over the town, now, do we?" asked the freckle muscle freak. And pit raked, which was exactly what it sounded like.

Sam and Benny snuck out during the slide show of smiling pit throwers handling grey black covered blood limbs and heads.

One job that neither disgusting nor physically demanding was crank generator repairman. Ever since the lights went out in the weeks following the Black Night, the only source of electrical power was hand-cranked portable generators. There were fifty in all of Fairview. All the Eleven Towns ordinance forbade the building of any other kind of generator. Electronics and complex machines were no longer allowed in town, because of a strong religious movement that associated that kind of power with the "Godless behavior" that had brought about "the end." Sam heard about it all the time, and even some of his friends' parents talked that way.

It made no sense to Sam. It wasn't electric lights and computers and automobiles that had made the dead rise. When he asked Tom about it, Tom said "people need to blame. If they can't find something rational to blame, then they'll very happily blame something irrational. Back when people didn't know about viruses and bacteria, they blamed plagued on witches and vampires. But don't ask me how exactly the people in town came to equate electricity and other forms of energy with the living dead."

"I understand the blame, but it doesn't make even a little bit of sense."

"I know. But what I think is the real reason is that of we start using electricity again, and building back up again, then things will kind of go back the way they were. And that this whole cycle will start over again. I guess to their way of thinking- if they even consciously thought about it- it would be like a person with a badly broken heart deciding to risk falling in love again. All they can remember is how bad the heartbreak and grief felt, and they can't imagine going through that again."

Sam understood.

The town's only profession electrician, Seamus Santorini, had long since taken to drinking his way through the rest of his life.

When Sam and Benny showed up for the interview at the house of the guy who owned the repair shop.

"Do you know why we only use hand-cranked generators in town, boys?" The man asked. His name was Mr. Fudge.

"Sure," said Benny. "The army dropped nukes on the Infected and the EMP's blew out all the electronics."

"No, that's not quite right, boy," Fudge said. "It's because hand-cranked machines are simple, and those other machines are ostentatious." He pronounced each syllable as if it was a separate word.

Sam and Benny glanced at each other.

"You see, boys, God loves simplicity. It's the devil who loves ostentation. It's the devil who loves arrogance and grandiosity."

Uh-oh, Sam thought.

"Mr. Santorini spent the first part of his life installing electrical appliances into people's homes. That was the devil's work, and now he's sought the oblivion of demon run to try and hide from the fact that he's facing a long time in hell for helping to incur the wrath of the Almighty. If it wasn't for Godless men like him, the Almighty would not have opened the gates of hell and sent the legions of the damned to overthrow the vain kingdoms of mankind."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Benny's fingers turning bone white as he gripped the arms of his chair.

"I can see a little doubt in your eyes, boys, and that's fair enough," said Fudge, his mouth twisted into a smile that was so tight, it looked painful. "But there are a lot of people who have embraced the righteous path. There are more of us who believe than don't." He sniffed. "Even if all of them don't yet have the courage of their faith to say so."

He leaned forward, and Sam could almost feel the heat from the mans intense stare.

"The school, the hospital- even the town hall- run on electricity from hand-cranked generators, and as long as right-minded people draw breath under God's own heaven, there won't be any ostentatious machinery in our towns."

Sam endured it for as long as he could and then asked if he could use the bathroom. Mr. Fudge, who had now shifted from simple electricity to the soul-crushing blasphemy that was hydroelectric power, was only mildly thrown off his game, and told Sam where to go inside the house. Sam went inside and all the way through and out the back door. He waved to Benny as he vaulted the wooden fence.

Two hours later Benny caught up with him outside of Safferty's, the local general store. He gave Sam a long and evil look.

"You're such a good friend, Sam, I'll really miss you when you're dead."

"Dude, I gave you an out. When I didn't come back, didn't he go looking for me?"

"No. He saw you go over the fence, but he kept smiling that smile of his and said, 'Your little friend is going to burn in hell, do you know that? But you wouldn't spit in God's eye like that, would you?"

"And you stayed?"

"What could I do? I was afraid he'd point at me and say ' _Him_!,' and then lightning bolts would hit me or something."

"Scratch that job off the list?"

"You think?"

-:-:-:-:-

There was one job Sam already knew about: erosion artist. He's seen erosion portraits racked on every wall of the town's fence outposts and on the walls of the buildings that lined the Red Zone, the stretch of open land that separated the town from the fence.

This job had some promise, because Sam was a pretty fair artist. People wanted to know what their relatives might look like if they were Infected, so erosion artists took family photos and infectified them. Sam had seen dozens if there portraits in Tom's office. A couple of times he wondered if he should take the picture of Mal to an artist and have them redrawn. He had gave to one of the famous brother artists, Andiron Sachet and his brother who is a twin of his and keeps the same name. However thinking about Mal as a Runner made him sick and angry.

But Sachet, the supervising artist, told him to try a picture of a relative first. He said it provided better insight into what the clients would be feeling. So, as part of his audition, Sam took the picture of Tom and tried it.

Sachet frowned and shook his head. "You're making him look to mean and scary."

He tried it again with several photos of strangers the artist had on file.

"Still mean and scary," said Sachet with purses lips and a disappointing shake of his head.

"Aren't they suppose to be scary," Sam insisted.

"Not to customers they're not," said Sachet.

"How old were you when someone passed?" Sachet asked.

"Too may to count." Sam hesitated, and that old image flashed in his head once more. Screams. The fires of canon and bullets, bodies mangled on the ground. And then the darkness as Mal head into and never came back.

After the audition, he hasn't been offered the job.

So, after soul-searching for a week, during which Benny lectured him pretty endlessly about detaching himself to become part of the co-creative process of the universe (or something like that), Sam went and asked Tom to take on as an apprentice.

And Tom agreed.

-:-:-:-:-

Benny said he had to get ready for work. He was scheduled for a six-hour shift in his tower, and looked pleased about it. Sam and Dylan found their friend Clay, a red headed girl with more freckles than anyone could count, sitting on a rock down by the creek, writing in her leather-bound notebook. She had her shoes off and her feet in the water. The red nail polish on her toes looked like rubies under rippling water.

"Hello, Sam," said Clary with a smile, peering at him under her wild red-gold curls. "How's the job hunting going?"

Sam grunted and kicked off his shoes. The cold water was like a happy party in his hot feet. Dylan slouched around and sat on Clary's other side, and began untying his clunky work boots.

He told them about working with Tom and what they think of being trained by him.

"Mom actually talked to Tom about it. She doesn't mind at all."

"You sure it's because your mom likes Tom."

"Likes?" Sam said. "You mean likes him like she likes your dog, Bandido, or _likes_ likes?"

"Likes likes." She cut him a sideways look. "Tom's hot."

"That's sick," Sam said.

"You look a lot alike, you know," said Clary.

"We're not related yet people say I am, like a son or young brother."

Clary grabbed her notebook and wrote for a while. She, like Benny, loved books yet unlike him she wanted to write books of her owns. She was always scribbling poems and short stories in her journal.

Sam was pretty sure Clary had a crush on him. He liked her, too, thought he'd rather have an arm cut off than say so. Even to Benny. Dating a friend was an old taboo among his crew. He and Benny had sworn a blood oath on it when they were twelve. Clary was really cute, and he liked looking at her, but daring her would be like dating Benny. Although he does fancy over Jessie, living close by to Clary's by the west wall, over in the poorest part of town yet makes enough ration dollars as a hairstylist. She was actually smoking hot with her small nose, rosy cheeks, and hair as yellow blonde. The whole thing with all these girls it's too much, so he avoids dating.

Clary grabbed her notebook and wrote for a while. Sam tried very hard no to look at her. He mostly succeeded, but it took effort.

"Well," said Clary sometime later, "spring's coming, and if you don't get a job, they'll cut-"

"My rations," he barked. "I know, I know. Geez."

"You know, the job I have is pit thrower, which isn't bad." Dylan suggested. And with his body mass like a bull and making him look older than seventeen, he was perfect for heavy lifting. "And you're outside."

"Any encounters with Infected?"

"Nope."

"Exactly."

Sam got up and stalked away, hands in his pockets, shoulders hundred under the February heat.


	16. Chapter 14

"It was a 1967 Pontiac LeMans ragtop. Bloodied and so souped-up that she's outrun any damn thing on the road. And I do mean damned thing."

That's how Motor Hammer always described his car. Then he's give a big braying horse laugh, because no matter how many times he said it, he thought it was the funniest joke ever. People tended to laugh with him rather an at the actual joker because Hammer had a seventy-inch chest and twenty-four-inch biceps, and his sweat was a soup of testosterone anabolic steroids and Jake Daniels. Had a face of a bulldog and had pistol butts sticking out every pocket, as well as a length of black pipe that hung like a club from his belt. You don't laugh, he gets mad and starts to think you're messing with him. Something ugly usually followed Hammer becoming offended.

Sam's friends always laughed. Not because they were afraid of what Hammer would do to them if they didn't, but because they thought Hammer was hilarious. And cool. No one cooler on the planet. Sam was alright with him but didn't think he was cooler than another Bounty Hunter he knows very well.

It didn't strike him like his friends that the car of Hammers always talked about had run out of gas thirteen years ago and was a rusted piece of scrap metal somewhere out in the Ruins. Not did it matter that the fact the car could even drive was at odds with history; not after the EMPs. In Hammer's stories, that car had lived through the bombs and the ghouls and a thousand adventures, and could never be forgotten. Hammer said he'd been a real road warrior in the LeMans, cruising the blacktop and bashing Infected.

Everyone else at Safferty's General Store laughed too, a couple were faking it, Sam couldn't blame them. About the only person who didn't laugh at the joke was Sam as well. He would of thought Hammer was insanely cool... Just he doesn't have this trust on him, especially the stories on how he's such an important hero. As a kid he would of thought of him as this awesome cool guy, but he begged to differ.

Motor Hammer were the toughest bounty hunters in the entire Ruins. Everyone said so. Sometimes even to Tom or Negan, but Hammer said Tom was "a bit too easy on the infected," and he said it in a way that suggested Tom was either shy of a real fight or didn't have the raw nerve necessary to be a first-class infected-hunting, badlands badass. No, Tom wasn't a coward. Sam knew that firsthand.

Working as a bounty hunter was a thought and dangerous business. None tougher, as far as Sam knew. Most of the hunters were paid by the town to clear infected and runners out of the areas around the trade route that linked Eleven Towns to the handful of other communities strung out along the mountain ranges and cities. Others worked in packs as mercenary armies to clear out towns, old shopping malls, warehouses, and even a few small cities, so that the traders could raid them for supplies. According to Motor Hammer the life expectancy of a typical bounty hunter was six months. Most of the young men who tied that job have it a month or two and then quit, discovering that actually killing Infected and also people was a lot different from what they learned from family members who had survived the Black Night, and a whole lot different from the stuff they were taught in school or the Scouts. Hammer always says he and Charlie Marion- another bounty hunter that Sam never heard before- had been the first of the hunters and they'd been at it since the beginning, making their first paid kill eight months after the Black Night. Sam knew who Bounty Hunters who lived throughout the Black Night and became bounty hunters, and one created a secured place called Sanctuary. Tom and Negan.

He met Negan because Tom and him were best friends before this. Sam laughed at how a man like Tom is so opposite and friends with a foul-mouth, rash, too honest man like Negan. Sam definitely thought Negan was the coolest Bounty Hunter; he had the rugged handsome looks, the funniest jokes that could be so dirty yet hilarious, the leather jacket, and the badass bat named Ellie and others like the bat. He was probably tougher than legendary hunters, like Queen Arnica, Houston Bill Wildchild, or the Mekong brothers, hell he even build his own community, similar on jobs yet very focus on saving people, and working inside and outside the Ruins. Negan was amongst the coolest and influential hunter.

"We kilt more Infected than the whole army, navy, Air Force, and marines put together," the Hammer bragged at least once a month. "And that includes the pansy-ass National Guard."

Hammer also did closure jobs- locating a Runner family member or friend for a client and putting them to a final rest. Mayor Gregory said they had as high a closure rate as Tom, thought Gregory was a jerk and doesn't like Tom's ways.

"When you gonna retire?" asked Barry Sputters, the mail carrier, as he poured Hammer another cup of iced tea. "You have to be rich as Midas by now."

"Midas?" Asked the Hammer. "Who's he?"

"I think he sold mufflers," offered Norbert, one of the traders who used armored horses to pull wagons of scavenged goods from town to town, "and then bought a kingdom."

"Yeah," said Hammer, nodding as if he knew that to be the truth. "Long Midas. Definitely from Detroit. Made a fortune outta car parts and such."

And everyone agreed with him, because that was the smart thing to do. "Well, boys," said Hammer with a wink. "I ain't saying I'm rich as a king, but me and my pal White Bear got us a whole pot of gold. The Ruin's been good to us."

"My uncle Ben said you killed the four Lightwood brothers last month," said Dylan from the back of the crowd.

Hammer burst out laughing. "Hell yes! We killed them deader'n dead. White Beat shucked up on their place, half-past sunrise, and tossed a Molotov onto the roof. All four of them dead suckers come staggering out into the morning light. Streaked with old blood and horse crap as who knows what. Skinny and rotten, smelled worse than sweaty pigs, and we were fifty feet away."

"Whatcha do?" Benny asked, his eyes ablaze.

The Hammer snorted. "We played some. This business is getting so's killing these critters is way too easy. Am I right or _am I_ right?"

A few people chuckled or nodded vaguely, but nobody said anything specific. It was one of those times when it wasn't clear what the right answer would be.

"I decided to play it fair. We laid down our weapons. Every last one. Guns, knives, my pipe, numchucks, even them ninja throwing stars. We stripped down to our jeans and beaters and just went in, mano a mano.

Sam scoffed. Do people really believe this? Hammer notice and threw a quick, ugly look and plunged back into just story. "Anyways, we came up on them with just our knuckles and nerves, and we fair beat them biters so bad, they died surprised, woke up, and died of shame all over again."

Everyone burst out laughing.

Someone clears his throat, and they all looked up to see Randy Gregory, the town mayor, standing there, his arms folded, bald heard coked to one side as he looked from Sam to Benny to Dylan. "I thought you boys were supposed to be out job hunting."

"I got a job." Benny said quickly.

"Me too," said Dylan.

"And you've had it, Sam Morgan," he raised a quirky eyebrow.

"Yes. As a Bounty Hunter like Tom."

Gregory laughed, scratching at his thick black beard. "This place is safe. Nothing bad can happen here, boy. Now you three run along."

Hammer simply shrugged. "Yeah... you boys got to earn rations just like grown folks. Skedaddle."

Sam and the others got up and slouched past the mayor.

-:-:-:-:-

Tom and Sam left at dawn and headed down to the southeastern gate. The gatekeeper had Tom sign the usual waiver that absolved the town and the gatekeeping staff of all liability if anything untoward happened once they crossed into the Ruins. A vendor sold Tom a dozen bottled of cadaverine, which they sprinkled on their clothing, and a jar of peppermint goo that they dabbed on their upper lips, to kill their own sense of smell.

They were dressed for a long hike. Sam wore good walking ropers, jeans, a durable shirt. Despite the heat, Tom wore a lightweight jacket with lots of pockets. He had an old army gun belt around his narrow waist, with a pistol snugged into a worn leather holster. The last thing Tom strapped on was his recurve bow. Tom was pretty good with any weapon. He could draw fast as lighting, and was quiet so no noise would attract any infected.

Tom tipped a couple of fence runners to bang on drums six hundred yards north, and as soon as that drew away the wandering Infected's, Tom and Sam slipped out into the great Ruins and headed for the tree line.

"We need to move fast for the first half mile," cautioned Tom, and he broke into a jog-trot that was fast enough to get them out of scent range. A few of the infected staggered after them, but the fence runners banged on the drums again, and the infected, incapable of holding on to more than one reaction at a time, turned back toward the noise. Tom and Sam vanished into the shadows under the trees.

-:-:-:-

"We're not being followed," Tom said.

"No, nothing."

"Good."

"How far are we going?" Sam asked.

"Far." He dug into a jacket pocket and removed an envelop, opened it, and took out a piece of paper that he unfolded and handed to Sam. There was a small color photograph clipped to one corner that showed a smiling man of thirty, with sandy hair and a sparse beard. The paper it was clipped to was a large portrait of the same man as he might be now if he was a Infected. The name "Harold" was handwritten in one corner.

Him and Tom always go out to practice on fighting Infected and Runners. But this is the first time for Sam to come with Tom in his closure job, getting erosion portraits of people having pictures done of wives, husbands, children... anyone they love. Someone they lost and kill them.

Tom filed the erosion portrait and put it in his pocket, then took out the vial of cadaverine and sprinkled some on his clothes. He handed it to Sam, then dabbed some mint gel on his upper lip and passed the jar to Tom.

"You ready?"

"Not even a little bit," said Sam.

-:-:-:-:-

They slows their pace as they neared the first houses. Tom stopped and spent a few minutes studying the town. The main street ran upward to where they stood, so they had a good view of everything. Moving very closely, Tom removed the envelope from his pocket and unfolded the portrait.

"My client said that it was the sixth house along the main street," Tom murmured. "Red front door and white fence. See it? There, past the old mail truck."

"Uh-huh," Sam said without moving his lips.

"We're looking for a man named Harold Simmons. There's nobody in the yard, so we may have to go inside."

"Inside?" Sam asked.

"Come one." Tom began moving slowly, barely lifting his feet and Sam mimic everything Tom did. They passed two houses which infected stood in the yard. The first house, on their left, had three Infected's on the other side of a hip-high chain-link fence. Two little girls and an older woman. As they passed by them, the woman turned their direction. Tom stopped and waited, his hand touching the handle of his bow, but the woman's dead eyes swept past them without lingering. A few paces along, they passed a yard on their right in which a man in a bathrobe stood among wild weeds and creeper vines that had wrapped themselves around his calves. It looked like he had stood there for years.

"There he is," murmured Tom, and Sam looked toward the house with the red door. A man stood inside, looking out of the big bay window. He once had sandy hair as a sparse beard, but now the hair and beard were nearly gone, and the skin of his face had shriveled to a leathery tightness.

"Sam?" He said under his breath. "You think that's him?"

"Mm-hm," Sam said with a low squeak.

Tom nudged the gate with his tie and entered the yard. They took a slow step by step. The process was excruciatingly slow, but to Sam it felt as if they were moving too fast. No matter how deliberately they went, he thought it was all wrong, that the infected- all of them up, and down the street- would suddenly turn toward them and moan with their dry and dusty voices, and that a great mass of the hungry dead would surround them.

Tom reached the door and turned the handle. The knob turned in his had, and the lock clicked open. Tom gently pushed open the door and stepped into the gloom of the house. Sam cast a quick look at the window to make sure the infected was still there.

Only he wasn't.

"Look out!"

A dark shape lunged at Tim out of the shadows of the entrance hallway. It clawed for him with wax-white fingers and moaned with an unspeakable hunger.

Tom pivoted to the outside of its right arm, ducked low, grabbed the Infected's shins from behind, and drove his shoulder into the former Harold Simmons's back. The infected instantly fell forward into its face, knocking clouds of dust from the carpet. Tom leaped into the creatures back and used his knees to pin both shoulders to the floor. He then pulled a spool of thin sip cord from his jacket pocket. He whispered the cord around the Infected's wrists and shimmied down to bring both its hands together to tie behind the creatures back.

Sam closed the door before any Infected see any movement. Tom flicked out a spring-bladed knife and cut the silk cord. He kept his weight in the struggling infected while he fashioned a large loop, like a noose. The Infected kept trying to turn its head to bite, but Tom didn't seem to care. Maybe he knew that the infected couldn't reach him.

With a deft twist of the wrist, Tom looped the noose over the Infected's head, catching it below the chin, and then he jerked the slack, so closing loop forced the creature's jaws shut with a _clack_. Tom wound more silk cord under the Infected's head, so that the line passed under the jaw and over the crown. When he had three full turns in place, he tied the cord tightly. He shimmied down the Infected's body and pinned its legs and then tied its ankle together.

Then Tom stood up, stuffed the rest of the cord into his pocket, and closed the knife. He slapped dust from his clothes as he turned back to Sam.

"Thanks for the warning, kiddo."

"No problem." Sam went to the window and looked out. "Eight of 'em out there."

Tom looked at him. "We can't go out the front. I expect there's a back door. We'll finish our business here and then we'll sneak out nice and quiet, and head on our way. C'mon, help me get him up."

They knelt on opposite sides of the Infected, but Sam didn't want to touch it. He knew the safety of going near an Infected and always been so cautious.

"Sam," Tom said, "he can't hurt you now. He's helpless."

Together they lifted the Infected. It was light- far lighter than Sam expected- and they half carried, half-dragged it into the dining room, away from the living room windows. Sunlight feel in dusty slants through the moth-eaten curtains. The ruins of a meal had long since decayed to dust on the table. They put it in a chair, and Tom produced the spool of cord and bound it in place.

"What do we do with him?" Sam asked. "I mean... _after_?"

"Nothing. We leave him here."

"Shouldn't we bury him?"

"Why? This was his home. The whole world is a graveyard. If it as you, would you rather be in a little wooden box under the cold ground or in the place where you lived? A place where you were happy and loved."

Sam just nodded. Tom removed the envelope from his pocket. Apart from the folded erosion portrait, there was also a piece of cream stationary on which were several handwritten lines. Tom read it silently, sighed, and then turned to Sam.

"Restraining the dead is difficult, Sam, but it isn't a the hardest part." He held out the letter. "This is."

Sam took the letter.

"My clients- the people who hire me to come out here, they usually want something said. Things they would like to say themselves but can't. Things they need said, so they can have closure. You understand?"

Sam read the letter. His breath caught unexpectedly in his throat, and he nodded as the first years fell down his cheeks.

He angled the letter into the dusty light, and read.

_My dear Harold~_   
_I love you and miss you. I've missed you desperately for all these years. I still dream about you every night, and each morning I pray that you've found peace. I forgive you for what you tried to do to me. I forgive you for what you did to the children, I hated you for a long time, but I understand now that it wasn't you. It was this_ **_thing_ ** _that happened. I want you to know that I took care of our children when they turned. They are at peace, and I put flowers on their graves every Sunday. I know you would like that. I have asked Tom to find you. He's a good man, and I know that he will be gentle with you. I love you, Harold. May God grant you His peace. I know that when my time comes, you will be waiting for me. Waiting with Helena and little Timmy, and we will all be together again in a better world. Please forgive me for not having the courage to help you sooner. I will always love you._

_~Yours forever, Georgiana_

Sam was weeping when he finished. He turned away and covered his face with his hands, and sobbed. Tom went over and hugged him and kissed his head.

Then Tom stepped away, took a breath, and pulled a second knife from his boots. A double-edge, black dagger with a rubbed handle and a six-and-a-half-inch-long blade. Sam placed the letter on the table in front of Harold Simmons and smoother it out. Then Tom moved behind before Sam stops him. "I'll do it," he said. Tom gives the dagger to Sam. Then he went behind and gently pushed its head forward, so that he could place the tip of the knife against the hallow at the base of the skull.

He took a breath and then thrust the blade into the back of the Infected's neck. The blade slid in with almost no effort into the gap between spine and skull, and the razor-shape edge slice completely through the brain stem.

Harold Simmons stopped struggling. His body didn't twitch; there was no death spasm. He just sagged forward against the silken cords and was still. Whatever force had been active in him, whatever pathogen or radiation or whatever had taken the man away and left behind a Infected, was gone.

Tom cut the cords that held Simmons's arms and raised each hand, placing it on the table, so that the head man's palms held the letter in place.

"Be at peace," said Tom.

He wiped his knife and stepped back. He looked Sam who was openly sobbing.

"I wish I've done this to many people I care, as well."

Sam nods and hugs Tom.


	17. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is it?" Dylan asked as he tried to lean closer, but Sam moved the card away. It was a weird reflex action, and even as he did it, Sam suddenly felt as if he stepped out of this moment, this place, and stood somewhere else. Someplace where the wind blew hot and dry, and the birds did not sing in the trees; where bones lay bright white on the ground, and the sky was as hard and dark as the bluing on a gun barrel.
> 
> Sam stared at the card. Not at the words, but at the image. It was girl about his own age. She wore a leather biker jacket custom and blue jeans. She had hair that was thick and long. She wore a leather holster, which held a pistol that Tom used to have, a Colt Python. She carried a machete. Behind her was a heap of dead zombies. The pairing was incredibly lifelike- more like a photo than a painting, but there hadn't been a working camera for years.
> 
> What held Sam's attention- what riveted him- was her expression and the familiar face he might of know, like he used to seen her.

"The Infected are coming!"

Dylan Lake yelled that at the top of his voice, and everyone ran. Dylan ran side-by-side with Sam and Benny, the three of them blocking the pavement to keep the other kids from getting there first. It was a disaster, though John- the older brother of Jessie- deliberately tripped Dylan, who went flying and whose flailing fingers caught the back of Moby's pants and accidentally pulled them down to his knees.

Moby wore stained drawers. And with his pants around his knees, he couldn't manage the next step, and he went down. So did Dylan. The crowd of kids hit the pair, who were already on the ground, but they were in motion and everyone knew there was no hope. They all went down.

Only Sam, Benny, and John were still running. John was halfway down the block. Sam looked back, hesitated, grabbing Benny by the sleeve, mentally said Screw it, and ran even faster.

In the direction of the infected.

They were at Safferty's General Store. The Famous Infected Cards had arrived.

-:-:-:-:-

"Too bad about Dylan," said Benny.

"Yeah," agreed Sam. "Nice kid. He'll be missed."

They sat on the top step of the wooden porch in front of Safferty's. A shadow fell across them.

"You guys are a couple of jerks." Dylan said.

"Eek!" Benny said dryly. "It's a walker. Quick, run for your life."

Sam sipped from a bottle of pop and burped eloquently. Dylan kicked Benny's foot hard and say on the wooden step between his two friends. He looked at the stack of cards that lay on the step between Benny's sneakered feet. There was a similar stack- two packs still unopened- in front of Sam. Waxed-paper wrappers were crumpled on the top step.

"The guy said they're sold out already," he complained grumpily.

"Yeah. Those darn kids, huh?" Murmured Sam.

"He said you two monkey-bangers brought the last couple of packs."

"Guy's lying."

Dylan brightened. "What? He has some-?"

"We brought the last twelve packs," said Benny.

"I kinda hate you guys."

"He's going to start crying." Benny said to Sam in a stage whisper.

"He's going to embarrass himself." Agreed Sam.

"What he's going to do is start kicking your asses."

"Eek," said Benny through a yawn.

Sam pretended to scratch his ankle, but then he moved his sneaker, and there were four packs of Famous Infected Cards in a neat stack, the waxed-paper wrappers still sealed. Dylan made a grab for them, ignoring the grins on his friends' faces.

"I still hate you." He said as he tore open the first pack.

"And yet," said Benny, "we'll find a way to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives and struggle on."

Dylan made a very rude gesture as he sorted through the cards.

-:-:-:-:-

Famous Infected Cards were one of the few luxuries the boys could afford. In the next town- forty miles away, along the line of the mountains- two brothers had set up a printing business all hand-crank stuff, because no one trusted electricity anymore, even when they could get it to work. One of the twin brothers live here.

The printers did it old school. Offset printing in four colors, and they did a quality job. The Cards printed in heavy card stock, ten cards to a pack. On the front of each card was a portrait of famous Bounty Hunters and other descriptions of them such as Loners, Infected, Heroes. On the bottom of each card was a short bio and the name of the artist. Sam's favorite card was of Big Colin Sweeney, a tall African American man who was painted in a heroic pose, swinging a torch at a swarm of Infected who were trying to get past him to attack a blond woman who cowered behind him. The bio said that the image was based on "any eyewitness account of a valiant but tragically futile struggle against Infecteds in Pennsylvania." The artist captured the nobility of the man with the torch and made the Infected look particularly menacing, an effect enhance by the stark shadows and light from the torch's flaring flame. It was one of the rarest cards, and Sam was the only one of his friends who had it. He also had a complete set of the bounty hunters, including Negan, Tom, and the Motor Hammer.

Benny had the largest collection of Famous Infected Cards, mostly because he had two cousins who collected them, and they traded doubles. Dylan and Sam had a good-size set. Clary and Jessie only had a few. Clary was poor and wouldn't take handouts, although if Sam gave her his doubles, she always accepted.

"Are you guys going to save any for Clary?" Benny asked as Dylan tore open his second pack.

"Why?" Dylan asked absently as he peered at one card.

Sam and Benny exchanged a look over his bowed head, then shrugged. Dylan could be as dense as a mud wall sometimes.

They opened all of their packs of cards and sat in the shade of the porch, organizing them and reading the backs, swapping doubles with one another, bragging about cards they had and that the others didn't. Sam smiled and joked and chatted with the others, but as he sorted through the cards, he could feel how false and fragile his smile was. He wanted to feel the way he used to feel, and hated that he had to fake it.

"Hey, you even listening?" Dylan asked, and Sam turned to him, hearing the questions as if it were an echo but not remembering what he asked.

"What?"

"I asked, what's with you and Clary?"

"Clary?" Sam tensed. "What about me and Clary?"

"She was over your house every day this week, doing the training with Tom, and now she's not hanging around with us. She hasn't missed a card day all spring. What's up?"

Sam forced his shoulders to give a nonchalant shrug. "No, it's cool. She was just being a friend."

"What kind of friend?"

"Just a friend, Dylan." But Sam could see that answer wasn't going to cut it. He sighed. "Look, we all know Clary has a thing for me and you have a thing for Clary. Big new flash. I did had a crush on her and now I don't have a thing for Clary, and the reason you haven't seen her around the last two days is that I think she knows it, and her feelings are hurt. I'm sorry, but there it is. So, if you want to make your move, now would be a pretty good time."

"No, it wouldn't," said Benny without looking up from a card he was reading. "Clary is probably feeling like total crap right about now. She could use a friend, but what she doesn't need is someone breathing down her neck or following her like a horny dog."

"What are you saying?" Said Dylan, eyes narrowed.

Benny turned to him. "What part of that was unclear?"

"I don't just horndog after her. I like Clary. A lot."

Then he punched Sam's arm. "Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"For screwing with Clary's head!" Dylan shouted. "Now she's going to be all moody and girly, crying in her room and writing in that stupid diary of hers."

"Good God." Said Sam, appealing to Benny, and the universe, for help. Benny tried to hide a smile as he pretended to read the Infected Cards.

They sat in silence for five minutes, each of them absorbed with the cards to arguing degrees. Benny tapped him with an elbow and held a card at Sam. "You're almost famous." He said. The picture was a man, sanding with his back to a bullet-scarred wall.

Tom.

"'Card number 113: Tom. A resident of Fairview, is a first class bounty hunter who prefers to be called a "closure specialist." He's known throughout the Ruins for his quiet manner, great abilities in leadership, and lighting fast fighting skills.'"

Benny pretended to read the card. "'Tom's little man, Sam, is known throughout the world for his noxious farts and lack of personality.' Man, they got your number."

"Get stuff," Sam suggested.

"Maybe someday you will be famous like Tom."

"Me? Famous?" Sam just shook his head. "That's ridiculous."

"Come on, dude," Dylan said, "you being a bounty hunter would be awesome. You can hang out with others, hell, even more with Negan. You knew him."

"Yeah, but that was five years ago. He brought me and Tom to this place and never seen each other again. I doubt I would have my name in these cards."

Sam tore open the wax paper. The first few cards were doubles they all had. There was one new one- a celebrity Infected that the bio said was Ezekiel King, but Sam couldn't tell the difference between the before and after pictures. He turned over the last card. It was a new Bounty Hunter, not as famous, so it's rare to have newcomers as Bounty Hunters.

"What is it?" Dylan asked as he tried to lean closer, but Sam moved the card away. It was a weird reflex action, and even as he did it, Sam suddenly felt as if he stepped out of this moment, this place, and stood somewhere else. Someplace where the wind blew hot and dry, and the birds did not sing in the trees; where bones lay bright white on the ground, and the sky was as hard and dark as the bluing on a gun barrel.

Sam stared at the card. Not at the words, but at the image. It was girl about his own age. She wore a leather biker jacket custom and blue jeans. She had hair that was thick and long. She wore a leather holster, which held a pistol that Tom used to have, a Colt Python. She carried a machete. Behind her was a heap of dead zombies. The pairing was incredibly lifelike- more like a photo than a painting, but there hadn't been a working camera for years.

What held Sam's attention- what riveted him- was her expression and the familiar face he might of know, like he used to seen her. The artist must have seen her, because he caught her with a blend of emotions on her beautiful face. Anger, or perhaps defiance with a little smile, tightened her full lips into an inflexible line. Pride lifted her chin. But her baby blue eyes held such a deep and ancient sadness that Sam's breath caught in his throat. He knew that sadness. It haunted Tom eyes every day, the day when he lost someone important, and lost another as well.

This girl knew. This girl seen some he's seen. Maybe worse. But this girl is so familiar. Does he know her? He definitely knows her but it can't be. Tom and Sam lost her after Lucius attack. It could be.

And there he looks and his heart explodes from surprise and almost cries in front of his friends. She's alive and well, Sam belts in his thoughts.

The name in the caption bar at the bottom of the card: "Mal."

Benny leaned over. He started to make a joke, but he caught Sam's expression and kept his words to himself.

Dylan was a few steps slower to the plate than Benny. He snatched the card out of Sam's hand. "Mmm, nice rack. Almost as big as Jessie's."

Sam's hands moved so fast that it surprised everyone. One second his fingers were open and empty, the next they were knotted in the front of Dylan's shirt.

"Give _it_ back." Sam said in a voice that was more like Tom's. older, uncompromising. Hard.

Dylan wore half a smile for half a second then he saw the look in Sam's eyes and surprise- tinged with fear and a spoonful of hurt- blossomed in his eyes.

"I... I mean... sure, man," he said, tripping over his words. "Sure... I just..."

Sam took the card from between Dylan's fingers. It was vent but not creased, and Sam smoothed it on his thigh. "I'm sorry." Dylan apologies, completely confused by what had just happened. Sam looked at him without seeing him, then leaned over to peer at the card. Dylan started to say something else, but Benny- out of Sam's line of sight- gave a tiny shake of his head.

"Who is she?"

"S-she's-" Sam had his throat caught of saying her name. "I-I know her. It's Mal. She was my friend."

"Mal?" Dylan asked. "The one that disappeared in the quarantine zone you've been in?"

"Read the back. See about where she is."

Sam slowly read the small block of printed text.

" 'Bounty Hunter number 302: Mal. A beautiful girl she is, but is quite the strong and a capable girl that you wouldn't want to mess with. Many may have seen her since the war against Glory, but none of her enemies never live to tell the tale. She lives by side with Negan in Sanctuary. She's a Savior, she is Negan, however... She. Is. Mal.' "

"I thought she is dead. Gone." Said Benny in a whisper.

Sam shook his head. "We didn't see her body or her as a wandering Runner. If she died, then why draw her as a teenager and alive?"

Dylan nodded. "And why give her boobs!"

"Jeez, Dylan," said Benny. "Don't you think of anything else but boobs?"

"No," he said, looking genuinely surprised. "Why would I?"

Sam turned the card over and stared at the back. In the lower left corner was the artist's name. "Andiron Sachet."

"Hey," said Benny. "Isn't that the guy you tried to hook up for the Chase Card for Mal, to see if anyone could find her? What happened with that card? And he has the blue house by the reservoir."

"Yeah. But we never heard any calls. Wonder if he even recognized her."

"Go ask him. If he did this, then he must have talked to her in person."

Sam shuffled through the rest of the cards back to his pocket. "So, you gonna find that girl of yours?" Asked Dylan.

"Yes." He shouted. "Sorry, I'm just... I have to find out first myself then tell Tom if she is actually alive."

"Do yourself a favor, Dylan. Next time you're staring at a girl's boobs, look up. You'll be shocked to learn it, but there's going to be a face up there. Nose, mouth, eyes. And behind the eyes is an actual person."

"Yes, I know. Girls are people. Wisdom of the ages. Clary is a girl and therefore a person. I _know_ that."

"Really," said Benny as he watched Sam vanished around a corner. "Maybe if you looked her in the eyes, she'd _know_ that you know."

He got to his feet, shoved his hands down deep into the pockets, and headed to the erosion artist for answers.


	18. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Famous Infected Card erosion artist Andiron Sachet must answer important questions from Sam to find out the mystery of his old friend.

There was a sign on a pole that read **Andiron Sachet- Erosion Artist**. It hung from two lengths of rusted chain and creaked in the hot western wind. The outside of the house was painted with murals of lush rain forests filled with exotic birds and brightly colored frogs. Sam had barely glanced at the murals when he'd come to apply for a job, but now he lingered to look. The paintings were filled with life- monkeys, insects, flowering plants- but no people.

The artist opened the door on the second knock. He wore low-slung jeans that seemed to be held together by dried paint and a plaid shirt with his sleeves cut off. His feet were bare and he had a steaming cup of coffee hooked on one multicolored finger. He peered down at Sam.

"You're the kid," he said.

Sam nodded.

"I thought I told you that I couldn't use you."

"I'm not here about the job."

"Okay. Why are you...?" The artist's voice trailed off as Sam held out the card. Sachet looked at the image and then at Sam.

"How did you meet her?"

Shutters dropped behind the artist's eyes. "It's just a card, kid. They're sold in every settlement in the Eleven Towns."

"I've come to you about her as a Chase Card and now I see her as a Bounty Hunter, alive."

The artist studied him, stalking but taking a long sip of his coffee.

"I don't remember you coming to me for a person to find. I just found her in the Tradepost and talked to her. Why?"

"Because she was my friend long before. She went missing when Lucius destroyed the zone and Tom tried many times to find her but nothing. I need to know if you met her and where she is."

"D'you drink coffee, kid?"

"Sure."

"I'll brew another pot. This might take awhile." He wasn't smiling when he said it, but he stepped back to let Sam enter. The artist paused to look at something that caused his whole body to tense, and Sam turned to see Motor Hammer, crossing the street towards the lorry stable. However, the Hammer was looking directly at Sachet, and he wore a peculiar smile on his face.

The artist's house was clean but not neat. Sketches were thumbtacked to the walls; partially finished paintings stood on half a dozen easels. A wheeled wooden table held hand-mixed pots of paint. They passed through into a tiny kitchen. Sachet waved Sam to a chair while he went to fill the coffee pot. Every house in Fairview had an elevated cistern that drew upon the reservoir and rainwater to feed the faucets and toilets. Because of some quirk of luck during the influx of the Black Night survivors, Fairview had twenty-three plumbers and only one electrician. In terms of electricians they were a half step out of the Stone Age, but there was always water to flush the John and fill the kettle. Sam was cool with that.

"Tom, huh," Sachet murmured. "I can see it now, but not when you were here the first time. I knew Tom had a kid with him, I always assumed you look like him."

Sam nodded. He had the straight brown hair. His skin was pale, but he took a good tan, blue eyes that were darker than Tom's. However, where's Tom's body was toned to a muscular leanness, Sam was merely lean.

"People say I'm the son of Tom, but that isn't true." He explained.

The artist digested that. "And he takes you out into the Ruins."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To practice on defending myself. I'm not like the rest of the kids in Fairview, I fought against Infected, Runners, and such."

"Tom always tries to encourage people to defend themselves, have Bounty Hunter carry out the trade wagons from the Tradepost, Sanctuary and other communities." He said, taking two clean mugs from the cupboard. Before Sam could press him on it, the artist said, "But Gregory brash him off. You think Tom is right about this?"

"Yeah, he's right. People are too afraid to even look out the walls. Things have to change or something could happen."

"Like what happened to the both of you in the quarantine zone. About that girl. Tell me what you know about Mal."

The smell of brewing coffee filled the little kitchen. The artist leaned back against the sink, arms folded across his chest, and waited.

"Okay," said Sam, and he told the artist about Mal everything. It was the same story he told his friends. The artist was a good listener. Interrupting only to clarify a point and to press him for more precise descriptions of the three bounty hunter who had attacked Mal and defended herself. Sachet was on his second cup of coffee by the time Sam finished. The coffee in Sam's cup was untouched and cold.

When Sam was finished, the artist sat back in his chair and studied Sam with pursed lips.

"I think you're telling me the truth," he said.

"You _think_? Why would I lie about that stuff?"

"Oh hell, kid. People lie to me all the time. Even when they don't have a reason to. Folks that want an erosion portrait but don't have a photo of their loved ones tend to exaggerate so much, that the picture comes out looking like either Brad and Angelina."

"Who?"

"Doesn't matter. Point is, people lie a lot. Sometimes out of habit. Not many people are good at telling the truth."

Benny thought of it. "It's true. But why would I lie about a girl that I've met before, went up to you and gave you a picture to help us find her."

"You met my twin brother, Andrew."

"I know you had a twin, but he said your exact name."

"Because we want ourselves hidden and no one can tell the difference. He was in Fairview for a few years until he went over to the Tradepost and worked on some paints. He died two years later from a disease. You probably met him and suggested the card."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked down at the card. "Tell me she's alive."

"That I can't say for sure," Said Sachet, but when Sam looked up at him, his eyes filling with dread and fury, the artist shook his head. "No, I mean that I can't say for sure how she is today, this minute. She's in war with the Claimers, you know them?"

Sam nodded. Tom had been once awhile bumped into them and they are vicious vile men.

"But she is alive and well a couple of months ago. I met her in the Tradepost where she currently lived."

"You... saw her?"

"Once, for several minutes to talk to her. But yeah, I saw her, talked to her who she is, and I came back and painted her. One of her friends helped me on her description, but that card there... That's her now. A teenager."

"Tell me how you met her."

Sachet paused, his fingers beating a tattoo in the tabletop. "I promise to tell you about her, even what she had done in quite some time with the Tradepost and the Saviors."

The artist poured himself a third cup of coffee, thought about it, then for up and fetched a bottle of bourbon from a cupboard and poured a healthy shot into his cup. He didn't offer the bottle to Sam, who was fine with that. The stuff smelled like old socks.

"I was born in Canada," Sachet said. "Toronto. I came to the States when I was fresh out of art school, and for a while I made money doing quick portraits of tourists. The boardwalk in Venice Beach. Then I took a couple of courses in forensic art, and landed a job working for the Los Angeles Police Department. You know, doing sketches of runaways, right questions, so I could get inside the was of a witness to a crime or a family member who was looking for someone. And I never forget a face. My brother was a police officer with me, we were a duo, he went to a case while I draw and write conclusions on the suspect. We were in a police station on the Black Night. Lots of cops around me, lots of guns. It's how we survived."

Sam didn't think it would relate to Mal, but the artist was in gear now, and he didn't want to be rude and say get to the point. He placed the card on the table between them, and sat back to listen his experience. Sachet sipped his spiked coffee, hissed, and plunged back in.

"You grew up after, kid, so all you know about it this world. The world after. And I know you've probably learned a lot about the world before the Fall in school or from hearing people talk. So probably have a sense of it, but that's really not the same thing as having belonged to that world. You love here in town, with a slice of what's left of the population. What's our head count at the New Year's census? Eight thousand? When I working on the boardwalk, I'd see three times that many people just sprawled in the sand, soaking up the sun. The freeways were packed with tens of thousands of cars, horns blaring, people yelling. I used to hate the crowd, hate the noise. But... man, once it was all gone- I've missed it every day since. The world is too quiet now."

Sam nodded, agreed. But he liked the quietness. There was always something happening in town, always some noise or chatter.

"When the dead rose... The noise changed from the sound of life in constant motion to the sound of the dying in panicked flight. I heard the first screams just as the sun was setting. A guy in the drunk tank died from a beating he's gotten when he'd been mugged. They thought he was asleep on the bunk, didn't know he was bitten. Then he woke up, if that's the right word. 'Resurrected' is closer, I guess. Or maybe there should have been new words for it. If there'd been time, if the world had lasted longer, I'm sure there would have been all sorts of new words, new slang. Thing is, the walkers- they weren't really 'back' from the dead, you know? They were the dead. It's been twenty-eight years, and the ideas still won't fit into my head." He closed his eyes for a moment, looking inward- or backward- at images that even his artist's imagination could not reconcile.

"God, the guy in the cell started biting the other drunks. Everyone was creaming. The cops thought they had a nutcase on their hands, so they did way they were trained to do: They unlocked the cell to try and break up the fight. But by then at least one or two of the other drunks were dead from bites to their throats or arteries. It was a mess- blood all over the walls and floors, grown men screaming, cops shouting, my brother yelling and protecting over me. But I stood there, staring. All of the colors, you know? The bright red. The pale white of bloodless skin. The grey lips and black eyes. The blue of the police uniforms. The blue-white arcs of electrocute as they used Tasers. In a weird, sick way it was beautiful. Yeah, I can see the look in your eyes. I guess were all a little crazy. I see things the way I see them. Besides, I was around death and dying all the time. I was around pain and loss all the time. I'd never been there at the moment a crime was committed... and here it was. Murder and mayhem being played out in all the colors in my paint box. I was transfixed. I couldn't move. And then the dead drunks woke up, and they started biting the cops. After that... The colors blurred, and I don't remember much except that there was screaming and gunfire. The younger cops and all of the support staff- the people who weren't street cops- they went crazy. Screaming, running, crashing into one another.

"It made it easier for the dead to catch them, and the more people they bit, the more the situation went all to hell. A cop I knew- a woman named Terri- grabbed my sleeve and pulled me away a second before one of the walkers could take a bite out of me. She shoved me down a side hall- the hall that led in the parking lot. She told me and my brother to get into my car and get the motor running. Then she turned and went back down the hall to get some other people out." He sighed. "I never saw her again. All I heard was gunfire and the moans of the dead."

"Is that where it all started?" Sam asked.

The artist shrugged. "I don't think so. Over the years you talk to people, and you hear a hundred stories about how it all started. You know what I really think?"

Sam shook his head.

"I think that it doesn't matter one little bit. It happened. The dead rose, we fell. We lost the war and we lost the world. End of story. How it happened doesn't matter much to anyone anymore. We're living next door to the apocalypse, kid. It's right on the other side of that big fence. The Ruins is the real world. Our town isn't anything more than the last bits of mankind's dream, and we're tuck here until we die off."

Sam shook his head. "You always this depressed or is that the crap your drinking off?"

Sachet titled his head to one side and stared at Sam for a ten count before a slow smile formed on his mouth. "Subtlety's not your bag, is it, kid?"

"I can be," he said, "It's a crazy idea, but I might actually have a life in front of me. I don't see how it's going to do me much good to believe that the world is over and this is just an epilogue."

Sachet chuckled. "You're smarter than I thought you were. Maybe I should have given you the job."

"I don't want it anymore. Is there anything else before we talk about Mal? Something to get off your chest?"

After a few moments Sachet continued his story. "My brother stayed on the radio, I stayed glued to the Internet all day, watching news feeds of these huge battles in New York and Philadelphia, in Chicago and San Francisco, our home Ontario and Saskatchewan. And overseas. London, Manchester, Paris. Everywhere. Then the power went out, and we got no need after that. The TV... It never came back in, so we lost power, it was useless anyway."

Then he sniffed like he was about to cry. "I ran for my life so long. My brother tried to help many people, but I always ran to save my own sorry ass. I ran and ran and ran. On good nights, when I can find a little scrap of self-respect. I tell myself that I ran so far because we couldn't find anyone alive. There was a cottage full of good people and when the walkers roamed around the place. There were kids and a guy named George stayed back there with the two kids. I tore up a throw rug and wrapped strips of it around my arms, and put on a thick winter coat I found in the closet. I wound five scarves around my brothers face and his whole body. I found a bag of old clubs in a closet and took metal putters, one for head hand. Andrew and George went through the same ritual, banging on the front door. Walkers are as dumb as they are dangerous. They came lumbering around to the front of the house, and I went out the back. I heard one of children, a baby crying and George yelling, but me and Andrew didn't look back. I ran. Kid... We ran for our life, and that's what chews me up every day and night since."

He stopped and sighed again.

"We slept in barns or drainage ditches. Then one morning we heard voices. I saw a party of armed men, Flyer Frontiers, walking down the road. I rushed at them, screaming incoherently as my brother tried to pull me away. They nearly shot me, but I managed to get out a few words in time. They gathered around me, have us some food and water, and grilled us on where we'd been and what we'd seen. I don't think I made a whole lot of sense, but when I was finally able to get myself together enough to tell them about the cottage, I realized that I had no idea where it was. I wasn't familiar with this part of California, and I sure as hell hasn't paid attention to the crazy path I took. They had a map and my brother found the place, but it was hopeless."

"What happened?"

He shook his head. "They found the cottage. They were all gone. So much blood everywhere, body parts and limbs spread across the floor, and the kids... Oh, God."

Sam tried to reach a hand for him but didn't, not knowing how he would react. "The men took us to Fairview. The reason my brother left to the Tradepost was because he hated what I've done, running for myself, and believe me, I hate myself so many times. I wish I didn't run, wish I was the one who would of died countless of times. After many years, I went to the Tradepost, trading supplies. And there were four teens, about your age, and they remind me the children in the cottage. One girl, Mal, was different than the others. Her eyes had the look of seeing things that no kid should ever experience. I went up to them, they were called the Rotten Kids, the RK's. What a name, right?" He chuckled and Sam as well. "I talk mostly to Mal, found her story interesting. She told me the battle with Glory, a group who had their own language, Shakespearian and about Charlie Marion- Charlie Pink-Eye if you have that card?"

Sam nodded. He had him, never heard him a lot but he was the one who kind of built the Tradepost and the Eleven Towns.

"Charlie was convicted with crimes of stealing children into a pit where they were betted for rations to fight off walkers, alone and defenseless. They were called the KillGames."

"They happened in Fairview. Kids were taken as well; Negan told me and Tom about that and wasn't very happy with Gregory."

"I was too, letting a bunch of bounty hunters you can trust very well. Anyway, Mal was with the group, the Saviors, met the actually Negan in a "quite a funny and long story" she said to me. She helped the Saviors to destroy the KillGames and been a Saviors for about a year."

"So where is she?"

Sachet sat back. "Well, she would be Sanctuary at Jackson Country with Negan or off to Pittsburgh where they have to fight against the Claimers, by the minute."

Sam got up and fetched the coffee pot. He poured the artist a fresh cup and set the bottle of whiskey down next to it. The artist stared at the bottle for a while, then poured some into his coffee, sipped it, then got up and poured the coffee out in the sink.

"Thanks for telling me all of this," said Sam. "Most people don't want to talk about the Black Night or what happened after. And those that do... They always make it sound like they were the heroes."

"Yeah, I sure as hell didn't do that."

"You didn't do anything wrong," said Sam.

The artist sneered. "I ran away and left an infant and two children in a house surrounded by the living dead. I sure as fuck didn't do anything right."

"Could you have carried them out? Both of them?"

Sachet gave a single wretched shake of his head.

Sam smiled at him. "At least you tried something to do."

"Kid, I appreciated the effort, but that thought doesn't even get me through the night." He closed his eyes. "Not one single night. Talk to Tom," he said as he walked Sam to the door. "And you find her."

"I will."

Sachet opened the door to a bright spill of April sunlight. The light was clean and dry and seemed to belong to a totally different world than the one Sachet had talked about. They lingered in a moment of awkwardness, neither of them sure if this was the whole of their relationship or the first chapter of an acquaintanceship that might last for years. "Sorry it didn't work out with the jobs," Sachet said with a crooked smile.

"Well, it's not like I'm invested in killing Infected. If you're hiring, I'm still avail-"

"No," Sachet interrupted. "I mean, I'm sorry your art kinda sucks. You're a nice kid. Easy to talk to. Easier to talk to than Tom or anyone."

"My art sucks?"

"You can draw," conceded the artist.

"I..."

"Just not very well."

"Um... thanks?"

"Would you rather I lie to you, kid?"

"Probably."

"Then you're Rembrandt, and having you around would make me feel inferior."

"Better."

They grinned at each other. The artist held out a paint-stained hand, and Sam shook it. "I hope you both find her."

"I will," said Sam.

That got a strange look from the artist, but before Sam could say anything, a voice behind them said, "Well, well, well, what's that you got there."


	19. Chapter 17

Sam knew that voice, and in the half second before he turned, he saw Sachet's face tighten with fear. Sam turned to see Hammer, standing on the street right behind him, smiling a greasy little smile.

"Whatcha holding there, young Sammy?" Said Hammer with the slick civility he used when he was setting up a bad joke- or something worse.

Sam was suddenly aware of the card. It was small, but at that moment it felt as big as a poster. His hand trembled as of the card itself felt exposed and nervous.

The massive bounty hunter stepped closer, and his bulk blotted out the sun. It was weird, why is Hammer being close and wanting his card. And who was the boy with him?

Hammer held out a hand for the card, but Sam's fingers pressed together to hold it more tightly. It was not a deliberate act of defiance. It was more an act if protection.

"It's just a card," Sachet said. "Like the ones I did of you and White Bear. I did a couple new ones. You know, for extra ration bucks. It's nothing special."

"Nothing special?" Said Hammer, his smile as steady and false as the painted grin on a doll. "Let's see, shall we?" Hammer reached for the card the same way Dylan had. Familiar, as if he had right or an invitation born of a long-standing confidence. Sam was primed to act, and as the bounty hunter's fingers closed over a corner of the card, Sam whipped it away. Hammer grabbed nothing but air.

"No!" Blurted Sam, and he took reflexive step backward, turning to shield the car with his body.

Hammer's eyes went wide. The boy and the artist wore identical expressions of complete surprise. Sam felt the blood in his veins turn to icy gutter waters

"Boy," said Hammer in a quiet voice no longer held the lie of humor or civility, "I think you just made a mistake. I'll give you one second to make it right and then we can be friends again. Hand me that card, ad you'd better smile and say 'sir' when you do."

Hammer did not make another grab, but the threat whined his words filled the whole street.

Sam didn't move. He held the card down by his hip and out of sight. He flicked a glance at Sachet, and the Hammer had his hand resting on the gun he's carrying. There was no help there.

"Now," commanded Hammer. He held out a huge, callused hand, palm open and flat to receive the card. A stiff breeze filled with heat and blowing sand suddenly whipped out of the west. The card fluttered between Sam's fingers.

"Give him the card, Sam," urged Sachet.

"Listen to the man," agreed the Hammer, laying a hand on the artist's shoulder. The tips of his fingers dug wrinkled pits through the fabric of Sachet's shirt. Hammer stretched his hand out until his fingers were an inch from Sam's face. The bounty hunter's skin smelled like gunpowder, urine, and tobaccos.

"Boy," Hammer whispered.

"No. Why do you need it?"

" _Sam_."

They eyes raised to the voice who now stood in the street. Sam smiled and slid the card into his shirt pocket.

"Tom," Sam said.

"What's going on, today?"

"Just chatting, Tom," said the Hammer. "Ain't nothing."

Hammer edged a step closer to Tom. He towered over Tom, but he didn't back away and didn't look away at his gaze.

"Heard your teaching the pup? It's a risky business taking a young pup into the trade."

"Everyone should learn."

"But he looks a little soft to me like the people in town. The Ruins is a dangerous place."

"Sam's already seen and been out in the Ruins. He's just fine."

Hammer's eyes hardened to stone, and he opens his mouth to say something. Tom put a hand on Sam's shoulders. "We'll be moving on home."

He turned, pulling Sam gently, but before they went three steps, Hammer said something quietly to himself, and laughed. It was dark and ugly laugh, heavy and swollen with the promise of awful things.

He and Sam walked in silence all the way home.

"What was going on?" Tom asked as they sat on the porch. "He wanted something in the card."

"The card and I didn't want him to have it." Said Sam.

"Why?"

He reached into his pocket and gave it to Tom. He takes it, and once he looks at the portrait, his breath gasps, eyes wide and almost becoming teary. His hands shakes with the card flapping.

"-M-Mal...?"

"She's alive and well," Sam explained. "She's in the Tradepost or Sanctuary with Negan. She's alive and is a Savior. We have to find her."

"And we will. Tomorrow at dawn."

-:-:-:-

They did not sleep at all that night. They for cleaned up, ate a large high-protein meal of meat and eggs, and dressed for hiking. They packed only those supplies they needed to take, including several bottles of water, a tarp blanket, and two tough but lightweight carpet coats. They took plenty of weapons- after all, this was the Ruins and not a walk-in-the-park trip. It was a mission.

When they stepped out into the porch an hour before first light, Sam turned and looked back at their house. He never felt like at home in this place. He turned away and adjusted the straps of their packs, patted their pockets for the necessary things they would need out in the Ruins. Sam had a 9mm pistol and a wooden sword, and he had a sturdy hunting knife that Tom had told him to hang from his belt.

"Tom?" He asked.

"Yes?"

"Why did Hammer want to see the card?"

"I have a feeling they're involved of the KillGames incident. Maybe he thinks Mal was the one to destroy the place."

"So he wants her dead?"

"I believe it. Bounty Hunters like him, working with the Marion family they will do anything to bring the KillGames back, and Hammer was a friend of Charlie Marion."

"He would kill Mal just for revenge?"

"And that he works with White bear," Tom said. "White bear is new and there's rumors of the KillGames being back and rebuilt again. And Hammer is with him. If we prove evidence to Captain Strunk and the others, and Gregory, we'd be able to cast suspicion on them."

Sam nodded. "What would we say to Mal when we meet?"

Tom put his hand on Sam's shoulder and have it a single, solid squeeze. "Say hello and be happy for her, and let her answer her own questions."

They started out walking toward the fence of the Red Zone; the gates open as Tom signed the papers. Walls wide open, Infected reaching up their arms at the drums and noise.

"It's clear!" A guardsmen's said in a fierce whisper. "Go! _Go_!"

Once they ran outside the gate, they turned to the south and ran harder, forward towards the narrow path in the forest, and they disappeared with the forest swallowing them whole.


	20. Chapter 18

The Saviors been scavenging around places to take care of Claimers and now it lead to Pittsburgh. It's been months, a spring season so there was no problems traveling in snow. Negan was so agitated on finding them before the fuckers move out. He prepared on his teams; the RK's won't go from the experience except Mal, and he understands it. Mal had been in war like this, hell, she told him she led one for a couple of months and attacked it when everything was planned, and she was, what? Fourteen at the time? He was beyond shocked, he knew she was a serial killer but damn, that was brilliant and badass.

The RK's stayed in the Sanctuary for a while, getting comfortable in the community. People had some gentle encouragement from the Saviors, accepting them as a group. He took them to the bedroom Mal had. Lugh kept talking to Alec, which Negan tries to sneak a peek on when their sexual tension will happen, maybe like to join for giggles, while the others and Mal always stuck with the kids; Mal was keen to never share the close quarters of the room with anyone but them. 

There were the nights they spent alone, out on the stairwell close to Negan's quarters. It went unspoken between them, but a pattern developed where, no matter what stairs they'd been in during the day, he and Mal always ended up in the same one at night. Mal's nightmares were still reoccurring- she woke up less violently now, and only once did Negan catch a glimpse of tears shining, unshed, in her eyes, but they still came. And when Mal woke up, Negan talked to her. At first, he tried to ask about the dreams, thinking that maybe Mal would want to just word-vomit it all out, but when those questions were dodged, they just talked. And when Mal had calmed down enough, she would drift back off to her room.

Maybe it was coincidental, but Negan swore that the girl slept more peacefully the second time around. It was selfish, in part, that desire to think that his presence was helping in some way. And in another way, it was wholly unselfish. There was something inside of Negan- some fierce, righteously protective part of him that he hadn't even known existed- that burned a little when he saw Mal's chest heaving with the panicked breaths that followed the nightmares. And that part of Negan screamed, rabid and furious, how dare anyone do that to another human being.

Deeper down, there was something else. Something neither selfish or selfless, just bewilderingly specific, that growled, _how dare anyone do that to Mal_. _How dare anyone make her look so terrified, make her feel so small, make those tears well up in what should be clear eyes. How dare anyone touch her._

-:-:-:-:-

Negan sat on the chair, rubbing some oil on Ellie in a sexual way that made his people in the long metal table confused and embarrassed. The RK's weren't getting the idea yet Mal rolled her eyes. They were at the higher level, the five floor where the meeting taken place. His armed men; Bud, Rachael, Dwayne, Michonne, Clinton, and Sheree were discussing and giving advises on what's happening tomorrow once they leave, packing every fuel they have, food they need to eat for a bit, and Clinton giving opinions of short cuts towards Pittsburgh, where there are herds to avoid, and pit stops.

Dwayne gets up and Negan asks where he's going. He replied for a smoke and going to bring more ammunition. He grinned and waved him off. He liked how Dwayne become so obedient after what Negan had done; made his hot smoking ex-wife his wife, had his face in the iron, and is a lap dog. Although, he did pity the man of the woman who clearly cheated and gave up on him just to be Negan's wife. Classy, he grinned.

"I plan that we bring your own guns, a sniper rifle for sure. Me and Vix build smoke bombs for hiding," said Sheree, earning a soft smile from Vix. "I suggest we should think about the routes we can attack. Their main area is in the neighborhood, but the city is ruined and may be a good place to use as an advantage for sniping a few Claimers."

"I say that we take two groups, one entering the city together," said Negan. "We take the east, down by avenue south street. There's a stop ground of Claimers watching over a quarantine wall. That's where we sneak up and kill them, no sounds."

"We should take a quarter of our people like we did with the Glory." Said Mal.

"Mal," Rachael implored to her. "It's been many months. We took every weapon they took from the Flyer Frontiers and guards. Nothing's happened. We're safe here. We're all still going to be right here, and we won't want to waste enough gas. You need fewer people, more as a small mission. If bringing every Savior into this, they'll be restless."

Mal frowned and bit her lip, and Negan gave it a shot. "Mal, listen to her. You really think she'd be saying any of this if she thought we were in danger? Listen to the fuckin' thoughts." Negan joked, trying to lighten Mal's heavy mood.

"It's safer if we're bringing every gun," Mal muttered. "And take much time to watch where every Claimer is. See what weapons they still have."

Vix placed a hand on Mal's shoulder. Negan felt a swell of relief and little bit of pride that Mal didn't flinch away. She was getting better, not jumping anymore when people from their group brushed against her or touched her. She would still occasionally look uneasy, and she avoided getting too close in proximity to anyone outside of their group, but that was to be expected. Small steps forward.

"Mal, you know I respect the decisions you're suggesting. And I understand that letting go under control, even a little bit, is a big deal for you. But you need to listen Negan. He's your leader, and if you can't trust the people here, trust that Negan knows how to defend us." Said Bud.

Mal frowned at her clutched hands. "I know I trust you. But if they have weapons like back in Whitefish lake, we don't know if they are the artillery. We're at risk already, and if we start splitting up our chances will be even worse." She stood up, and headed into the railing outside. Sheree sighed and jerked her head at Negan, indicating she wanted him to try to talk some sense into Mal.

Negan obeyed the suggestion, padding out the door after Mal, closing it and standing beside her where she stood out the railing, watching over the nice view. Mal didn't acknowledge him, just stared in frustration. Negan sensed that Mal just wanted to look busy so they'd stop questioning her.

"Mal, I really think you need to let our plans happen," He said gently, sliding a hand onto her shoulder.

"A lot could go wrong."

"A lot could go wrong even if we're all together, Mal. You know that. If we brought everyone out there, lots of us would be dead." Mal avoided his eyes, and Negan reached forward, gently cupping the side of Mal's face in his hand and tilting it up to face him. Mal's eyes went wide at the gesture- there was no fear there, though, just breathless surprise at the intimacy of it. "Baby, it's gonna be alright. It is. Trust us. One fucking bit. You'll see. You said yourself that we are gonna win, no one dies. Fucking think about it; once it's over you'll have a whole damn room to yourself. I know you've been getting better, but I still see how fucking nervous it makes you being crowded into one room with so many people, and bitchin' about everything they don't know what to do."

Mal sighed, but Negan could see that she was considering it. "I trust you."

"Everyone will be fine, especially with only a few people in two groups, and things will be fine. I fucking promise."

That seemed to sate Mal. She took a deep breath and stepped into the living room, regarding the Saviors. "We can try splitting off into the neighborhood. Look for any signs of Claimers and/or survivors. If we see anything in the house you can used as a weapon, keep it close by."

Bud beamed at her, rising off the chair. "Great! That's really great to hear, Mal. I knew I'd like you."

-:-:-:-:-

She entered the still-steamed bathroom. She kicked off her boots and stripped off her clothes. _I can wash those, too_ , she realized. Clean clothes. The Sanctuary has a laundry storage, she forgets little luxuries that the Tradepost doesn't have. When she stepped under the hot spray of the shower, the effect was instantaneous: the water hit her skin and rolled down her body, pooling in a sullied puddle around her feet. She cranked the heat up a bit and tipped her face up into the spray, feeling it soak her.

 _God, that feels amazing_ , Mal thought as the hot water beat down onto her back.

She got a strange sense of satisfaction as she grabbed the soap and began washing away the grime, watching with fascination as the dirt was scrubbed off. And then, halfway through the second time washing her hair, something hit her.

_I'm not clean enough._

_He's still on me. Always still on me_.

Mal doubled over and dry heaved into the shower drain, her whole body shaking. She knows it was a dream but her mind is doubling her over. She grabbed the soap again and turned the heat the rest of the way up, the glass stall steaming up until she couldn't see out of it. She scraped at her skin, working the soap into a lather again and again and again.

_Get it off._

_Get it off._

_Get him off of me._

-:-:-:-:-

After Negan got done at loading for the two cars on their way to Pittsburg, filling up as much gas from the corn and oil they gardened up in Sanctuary. He went up into the second floor where the kids are at the playroom with AJ.

Max was on the couch, bouncing AJ on his lap and making him giggle. He looked up as Negan entered, watching him take the place in.

Negan whistled. "You guys having fun in this badass place."

The kids didn't bother to remind Negan of Mal's no-swearing-in-front-of-the-kids rule. "This place is so cool," Killeen grinned, his expression suddenly childlike in a way the Negan had never seen before. "I like to live here."

Negan chuckled as he wandered through the kitchen. "You have to ask the RK's if they want to. Where is Mal anyway, kids?"

"In her own room. In the shower probably." Rin said. "Been up there for a little while when I tried to call her."

Negan smiled to himself. "Probably hogging all the hot water, the cheeky girl," he joked. "We'll go to her room and I can cook a fucking meal for you."

AJ's hands tugging at the little tiffs of hair out of his hat. Max scoffed and Negan looked offended. "What's that shit for? You don't fucking believe me?"

"Just don't seem like the type."

Negan grinned and leaned back against the counter. "I live to break stereotypes, kid. I'm into all kinds of shit I don't seem like the type for. I promise you, all of you kids won't be complaining that I don't look like the cooking type when you taste my spaghetti."

When he left the kids on their own, Negan made his way up the stairs to Mal's room. Her door was unlocked; he knocked for privacy and went in anyway when no call is heard. Entering, he hears the sounds of the shower still running in the hall bathroom. Impatient asshole that he was, he knocked a few times.

"Hey, Mal! Hurry your ass up in there, I'm gonna cook up a meal for you and the kids!" Mal didn't respond, and Negan rolled his eyes. Shower-hogging little shit.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal's whole range of vision had narrowed down to the swirl of sudsy water down the drain. She couldn't feel the spray of the shower anymore, couldn't feel the tile under her knees as she hunched on the floor, couldn't feel the dig of her fingernails into her flesh. All she could feel was her skin, tight and itchy and unbearably filthy, she thought of- of him- still on her skin made Mal feel dizzy and sick.

_Get it off- have to get it off..._

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Mal jolted, her shoulder hitting the wall of the shower.

"Mal, you in there? Fuck, man, hurry your ass up."

Negan's words confused her. She'd just gotten in. Negan should still be with Bud-

"Mal! Hey, Rin's getting kinda worried out here."

Why would Rin be worried? She'd just gotten in.

"Mal...shit, I'm coming in, okay? You're freaking me out thinking you cracked your head on the sink or something. Yell if you want me to stay the fuck out, alright? Just tell me you're okay and I'll fuck off."

Mal couldn't force the words out. She went back to scrubbing violently at her skin.

-:-:-:-:-

Negan opened the bathroom door and was immediately hit in the face by a room full of steam.

How much fucking hot water did Mal use?

The glass stall of the shower was mostly steamed over, but Negan couldn't make out Mal inside. Panic twisted in his gut. "Mal? You alright? I can't fucking see you. Just tell me you're alright. Say something, okay?"

Nothing.

Fuck it. If Mal was alright, she could yell at him all he wanted for invading his privacy. He got that it had been a while since she had gotten to bathe, but a two hour shower was a bit much. A two hour shower in which she didn't respond the last three times Rin and Negan had knocked on the door was downright worrisome.

Negan pulled the stall door open, and his breath caught in his chest.

Mal was curled into herself, hunched over on the shower floor with a nearly-empty bottle of soap beside her. Her skin was tinged a bright red, and it wasn't just from the water temperature, because that was now running cold as it poured over Mal's bare back. Mal barely seemed to register his presence, instead choosing to continue scrubbing at her already raw flesh. There were patches of it, on her legs in particular, Negan noticed, where the skin had been rubbed away completely and was now trickling a faint but steady stream of blood.

What the fuck?

Negan crouched down, not minding the water soaking through the knees of his jeans. "Mal?" He kept his voice gentle, "Mal, are you okay?" When Mal still didn't look up at him, Negan reached out a tentative hand, letting it hover over the girl's bowed head. "Mal. You're freaking me the fuck out. I'm gonna touch you, is that alright?" When Mal didn't respond, Negan hesitantly let his hand drop to rest atop Mal's wet hair.

The smaller girl jerked back immediately, her eyes snapping up to Negan's. They were wet from more than the bathwater, and rimmed a morose shade of red. She looked terrified, nearly feral in her fear, and Negan threw his hands up.

"Shit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! You were just- Rin and I have been trying to ask if you're okay for the past two hours and we were getting worried." Mal's expression softened into confusion at that, and the fear melted into a shaky confusion that was echoed in the way her body was trembling.

"T-two hours?" She asked.

Negan nodded. "Yeah. Rin and I knocked three times before this. What's...what's going on, Mal?" He nodded to Mal's reddened skin, and Mal curled further into herself, trying to shield her body from Negan. "Mal, I'm not- you know I'm not gonna hurt you. But I'm a little concerned that you're gonna hurt yourself if you keep going like that."

Mal looked down at herself as if for the first time, and when she looked back up at Negan, she looked lost. "I- I don't remember doing this. I was just- just trying to get it off-" her voice broke and Negan's heart went with it.

"Get the dirt off? Well, I'm pretty damn sure you got it all, darlin'. You're rubbed fuckin' raw."

"N-not the dirt," Mal whispered, her head dipping low again. Negan cocked his head.

"What, then?"

"I had to get- to get it off. Get him off. I thought I need to get him off." The words were violent, spat onto the wet tile like poison sucked from a wound.

Negan's chest tightened painfully, and he reached out to the shaking teen again. "Oh, Mal... fuck, baby girl..." He breathed. Mal was shaking violently now, goosebumps breaking out over her skin. Negan pushed himself to his feet, his jeans soaked from the knees down, and moved to shut off the frigid water. "I'm gonna turn this off, okay?" Mal nodded his assent and Negan turned the shower off. He turned and grabbed a towel from where it hung on the wall and reached out to Mal again. "C'mere, Mal. You need to dry off. You're shaking." When Mal didn't move, Negan crawled into the shower beside her. He gingerly wrapped the towel around Mal, gauging her reaction. She didn't seem scared anymore, the manic scrubbing of her skin having passed. Now...now she just seemed deeply troubled, her broken expression making Negan ache for her. "Do you want me to go so you can dry off? I can go." Negan offered, but Mal surprised him by catching his arm, icy fingers making him suck in a breath.

"No. No, I don't..." Mal visibly swallowed. "Don't go. Not yet. I don't... I can't be alone in here."

The heavy words stuck to Negan, thick with sorrow and hurt. "Okay. Alright. I'm here. Can I... can I dry you off, then? If you're not gonna do it? You need to warm up. The cold's not doing you any favors."

Mal dipped her head, nodding her assent, and Negan placed careful hands on the towel, dragging it over Mal's skin to dry her off and then rubbing more firmly to get her warm again. He felt Mal's fingers knot in the damp fabric of his shirt, felt her head tip to the side and rest against Negan's chest as he toweled her dry. He could feel the tension in Mal's shoulders begin to melt away, rolling off of her like water down the drain.

"I'm sorry I worried you and Rin," Mal murmured softly, "Didn't realize... thought I'd just gotten in. Lost track of time."

"It's alright, baby. It's alright. I'm sorry I came in. I mean, I'm not, because you really needed to be snapped the fuck out of whatever you were doing before you hurt yourself, but I'm sorry if... if you're uncomfortable or anything."

"It's okay," She mumbled, but Negan felt Mal shift against him, drawing her legs up further to better cover herself.

"Are you... are you alright now? Feel better?"

"Yeah," Mal answered, "I just... I just needed to get it all off."

Negan nodded. "Yeah. I think you took care of it, though. You're one squeaky-fucking-clean bitch now, Mal." He toweled Mal's damp hair dry as he could get it, smiling to himself when the damp lock of hair fell into Mal's face. He pushed them back gently, raking his fingers through them and massaging Mal's scalp lightly, drawing a soft, contented hum out of the smaller one. He handed Mal the towel. "I, uh. I'll let you handle the rest, alright? You good to go?"

Mal nodded, rising on her knees and accepting Negan's offer of a hand to help her up. She clutched the towel in front of her, her face flushing faintly. "I'm good."

Negan forced himself to keep his eyes on Mal's face then went out the door, letting Mal change inside the bathroom, wanting to see if she was actually okay. She came out, dressed in comfy clothes.

"Thank you, Negan." Mal's voice was the barest whisper between them, a low, reverent sound in the empty room. Negan's chest was tight as he turned into Mal, the girl's blue eyes a navy-black in the dark light. Impulsively, Negan leaned into the touch, hovering for a moment before pressing his lips to Mal's forehead in a kiss that he hoped conveyed even a fraction of his affection. He could hear Mal's unsteady breathing below him, and her eyes were wide when Negan pulled back.

"Of course. Anything, Mal. I fucking mean it. All you have to do is ask."

-:-:-:-:-

After she calmed herself down, Vix knocked at her door. She lets her in when she notices something behind her back.

"Long shower?" She asks.

"They do have nice showers," she counters, not trying to let her see what really happened. "What's that?"

"Remember that on your seventeenth birthday, I was going to make you a new leather jacket, but didn't quite finish.

She hands out a black plastic blanket, unfolding it, and Mal applauded at the wonderful sight of Vix's creation. The biker jacket had some resembles of Negan's jacket, with the same texture and structure. Yet with her design, the sleeves can be unzipped and zipped on the side of her upper torso sides, becoming sleeveless like a leather vest. It's thought since Mal gets too hot when it's very humid and hot in temperatures- surprised that Negan barely breaks a sweat in his jacket- and on the sides when zipping on her sides, it had a design, red front of the baseball bat with chains looping around it. Ellie.

"It's perfect. Thank you." She leans over and hugs her, appreciating that Mal didn't flinch or get sick from the gesture.

"I knew you'd like it. Wish I can come with you."

"I understand, you don't have too. You never experienced war before and it's scary, not like all the Bounty Hunters who claim stories as being heroic battles with barely casualties and consequences."

"You wear, and it'll show that you are a Savior and an RK. You are Mal."

-:-:-:-:-

Mal shot up in bed, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She was gripping the sheets below her, which were soaked through with a cold sweat that made her feel too much like she felt that day, her body trembling as she bit back on a broken sob.

She half-fell out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, hoping the shower didn't wake up the kids or the RK's in the extra bed. She crawled under the spray and sat there for a while, eyes closed, taking deep, unsteady breaths.

_Just a dream. A fucking dream. You're fine._

She changed into fresh clothes when he got out- a dry shirt and shorts- and stared at her bed. Suddenly, she didn't want to get back in, terrified that if she did, if she laid down in the same sheets she'd just sweated through, she would end up right back in that cold room with Charlie behind her.

_Negan. Negan said I could come to him. Any time._

She very nearly ignored the thought, but the memory of Negan's lips on her forehead, soft and comforting, drew her out of her room and down the stairs until she was hovering in Negan's doorway. The door was surprisingly open since he does lock it, the room dark with nighttime, but Mal's eyes had adjusted enough to see the outline of the man under the sheets, his chest rising and falling with sleep-heavy breaths.

 _This is stupid. I shouldn't wake him up like this because I had a fucking nightmare_ , Mal reprimanded herself, even as she stepped into Negan's room. She felt like a child coming to him like this, but the shame of it didn't outweigh the heaviness of her eyelids from restless nights and the fear that gripped her when she thought of resuming her dream.

"Negan," Mal said, feeling stupid as she reached out to shake the man's bare shoulder. Negan's reaction was instantaneous, jerking awake under Mal's hand and grabbing for a book sitting on his nightstand.

" _Whothefucksthere_ -" Negan rasped, his words slurred with sudden wakefulness. Mal took a step back.

"It's me. Mal." She could make out Negan rubbing at his eyes and setting the book down again.

"Fuck. Shit. Jesus tap-dancing fucking Christ, Mal. Somethin' wrong?"

Mal scrubbed a hand over her hair awkwardly. "I, ah. I was wonderin'- you said that if I...if I woke up again, that I could, uh..." She trailed off, feeling foolish, but Negan groped for her hand in the dark, twining their fingers together.

"Yeah. Fuck, sorry. Of fucking course, you can wake me up, baby-girl. You wanna- wanna talk or somethin'?" His words were split by a wide yawn, and Mal found herself almost smiling at that.

"I just don't wanna be alone right now. Can't fucking sleep in that bed."

Negan tugged Mal a little closer, and Mal sat on the edge of the mattress next to him. "You wanna sleep down here?"

Mal's face flushed- she realized now how it sounded, how it looked, her coming down here to wake Negan up, saying she didn't want to be in her own bed. "I- I didn't mean- I don't want you to be- I'll just go." Flustered, Mal moved to stand, but Negan held fast to her hand.

"Don't go, Mal. You don't gotta fucking go. Wasn't- I wasn't makin' fun of you. If you wanna stay here, you can stay." He scooted up in bed, putting a hand on Mal's shoulder. "You're fucking shaking, Mal. Come here." Negan slid an arm around Mal's shoulders, and Mal turned into him, seeking warmth and the comfort of another person, suddenly craving arms around her so badly that it ached. Before she could talk herself out of it, she was gripping at Negan's shoulders and resting her forehead against the crook of Negan's neck. Negan pulled her closer, one hand stroking her hair gently while the other rubbed her back. "Stay here, Mal. I've got you. I've fucking got you, darlin'."

Her sense of shame long since gone, Mal poured herself into Negan's arms, let herself be guided to lay back on the bed with the other man's arms wrapped protectively around her while she breathed in the warm, familiar scent of Negan. She breathed in and out, focusing on the leather-and-soap smell, the way Negan's arms curled around her body, the way his lips felt as the pressed against Mal's hair, speaking soothing words that she could only half- hear as she drifted off into a blessedly peaceful sleep.


	21. Chapter 19

When Mal woke up the next morning, she was momentarily disoriented, not recognizing the room she was in. Her mind reeled in panic for a moment- Where the kids? AJ? Everyone? Where the hell am I?

It took a minute to come back fully to herself, remembering where she was. She flopped back against the pillows, allowing herself a moment to just enjoy the softness, the warmth and comfort of a real bed, of blankets and sheets and a mattress beneath her.

She thought back to last night, to Negan outside with her, how he'd been so kind to her. He ruminated on the gentle words, the offer to come to her if Mal ever woke up like that again, the feeling of lips on her forehead that had lingered long after they'd said their goodnights and parted ways.

She was ashamed to admit that she'd nearly asked Negan to stay with her then. In her moment of shaky weakness, she very much wanted to request that Negan keep her company until she fell back asleep, talk to her until she drifted out of consciousness like they'd done alone at night. She always slept so much better then.

As it was, she had replayed the memory of Negan's lips on her forehead and his surprisingly soft-spoken words in her head until she'd fallen asleep alone. And it seemed to work- she had slept much less fitfully, not waking up until just now. She rolled over in bed and checked Negan's watch. It was just past eight.

She rolled out of bed, padding barefoot down the hall to check on the kids and AJ- only to find her friends at the table, the kids on the floor playing truth or dare, Max sitting at the counter and Judith toddling around underfoot while Negan worked away over the stove.

A warm, sweet scent filled the kitchen, and Mal leaned over the counter to get a better look after greeting her friends and the kids. "Are those...pancakes?"

Negan swung around, artfully flipping a pancake in the skillet. "Sure as shit are, Mal! We've got blueberry and plain, which kind d'you want?"

"Language," Mal chided halfheartedly, still eyeing the pan hungrily, mouth watering. "And blueberry."

It was a strange and wonderful thing, eating blueberry pancakes in her- her!- kitchen with her friends and the children and Negan. It was very nearly normal.

She was still in the good mood that pancakes and domestic mornings provided while her friends were giving eye brow raising looks at Mal, wondering where she slept, and Mal avoided answering. while he was out on his morning patrol.

Before they were about to head out, Mal packed everything she needed in her pack, and chose to wear the jacket that Vix made. She left towards the second floor where Mal didn't want to go to, however, Mal thought about getting a hair cut. Cut some dead ends, and maybe thin it since it was so thick and heavy her neck sweats profoundly.

Knocking on the door, a large dark woman with golden brown skin, mixed of Asian and Arabian opened the door; a disgusted look glared at Mal. And Mal grinned, entering without permission.

"Hello, sluts," she said.

Catherine smiled. Mal liked her more than the other of Negan's wives. She was more sensible on keeping things to herself. She did it for points- sure she likes the pleasure, but isn't like an animal releasing their heat.

"I heard one of your ladies cut hair. Want a trim and maybe make this hair less thick." Mal suggested, looking at the cowering women. Sarah, the bleached white hair, left the room, avoiding eye contract with Mal because of the incident last year when she knocked her flat and tried to escape. She did deserve a good smack.

"I'm the hairstylist, names Danielle. You take a seat in there." She said.

"Alright, then." She settled herself in one of the chairs at the makeup table, and Danielle set to work on her hair, wetting it first using water from the kitchen sink and then snipping away with a sharp pair of scissors she'd run home quickly to get. Danielle chatted conversationally about the Saviors going off and- God, Mal could rip her ears off to be in peace- about Negan as some of the ladies were agreeing about something nasty about him, chunks of dark hair dusting the shoulders of Mal's jacket.

"Done. How's that feel?" Danielle asked.

Mal reached back again feeling. The long hair was up to her shoulder blades, no longer thick under her fingers. She felt lighter without it, and it no longer was as much too thick. "Feels great. Loads better, thanks." Danielle dusted the hair off her shoulders and she stood. "Here. I'll give you half a notion of points."

Danielle tucked the scissors away in her package. "Oh, sweetie. You don't have too."

Mal waved her off. "It's fine. Better do it or Negan will give me a smack upon the head or Ellie would."

"He wouldn't. He cares about you too much."

Mal suddenly and inexplicably found it hard to look Danielle in the eye. Her gaze dropped to the grey of the carpet.

When the door closed behind Mal, she made her way outside, walking pass the railing where the stream is calm, and came over to the group, Negan, the RK's and the kids waiting there; and Negan nearly did a double take at the sight of her.

"You, uh... your hair is different," Negan blinked at her. Her hair was still long but thin, smooth, less thick and wild. She was dressed in a badass jacket than Negan had, applause to Vix. She looked...softer like this, her face less intense without the thick hair being tangled. Mal ran her fingers along her hair.

"Yeah. I, uh. Looked in the mirror and barely recognized myself. Before and after." Negan moved forward, hand outstretched. Mal tilted her head to the side, letting Negan feel her hair. Negan let his fingers linger on the smooth hair for a moment before he pulled his hand away. "It's a, uh...It's a good look on you. I mean, the bushy hair was badass, don't get me wrong, but you looked like a damn wildman. Probably would have scared some of the people here."

Mal chuckled, and Negan was glad to see the her seemed to be in better spirits.

"So, are we ready?"

"We are. Just take your time."

Mal went over to her friends when she spots Max all dressed up and armed with his gun. "What's this?"

Lugh sighed. "He's coming with you."

"What?"

"I am." Said Max. "I know I'm still young, but I want to help the Sanctuary. To understand what war is. Some day I would have to face it, right?"

Mal nodded, struggling to accept his offer. Then she flicks his hair up, earning a smile. "Of course. Just listen to any of us and obey, ok?"

He nodded, and headed to the car Mal will be in."

"You be careful, Mally." Lalon said, hesitate on giving her hug when she reaches over and wraps him around. Lugh joins in, as well as Vix, giving a tight yet comforting group hug. Mal then goes to the kids, kissing their foreheads and squeezed the living heck out of Mal.

"You guys behave, especially you Killeen."

Killeen scoffs. "I will."

"I'll keep a watch on him," said Johan.

Mal waves and heads to Negan. "So, where first?"

"We will drive to a place forty miles east and meet a particular group of a Bounty Hunter and get some help."

"That's why we don't have much Saviors?" She asked.

"I know this woman, and she had problems with the Claimers. Some of her people were taken and never brought back. Now, Mal, you sure you're absolutely fucking ready?"

"I am."

-:-:-:-:-

By 459 miles, they often stopped at place- a lot were stripped clean which became a useless things to do yet there was so much gas to take. And then there was a low rumble overhead. Mal's eyes turned up to the sky, and just like that, rain poured down, cool and wet and cleansing, soaking them all in the middle of the road. Jack found a farm and rolled the cars inside the place and took inside. Thankfully, the barn was clear with the exception of one walker holed up in a stall to the side. After Ronald quickly took it out, the group hurried inside, eager to get out of the downpour. Mal nudged her boot into the ground, scuffing up hard-packed dirt.

"We should build a fire. Dry off." The others nodded at Negan, setting to work, gathering looks planks of wood and some bricks to keep it from spreading, and before long they were gathered around a small flame, damp clothes slowly drying. Mal settled in beside Negan, feeling strangely at peace. The barn was hardly an ideal shelter, but it was something, a place to rest for the night and wait out the storm. They had water, food, their cars, and weapons, they had each other. For the night, everything seemed like it would be okay.

Negan's presence beside her shouldn't have been calming, but, somehow, it was. Mal would never say it aloud, but ever since she'd put her trust in Negan, she felt more steady with the man by her side. It had been irrational at first, she knew. Her brain's desperate attempt at comfort and stability in the wake of what had happened to her, never mind that she and Negan hardly knew each other. But now, after these last months, about a year, of being together, with their nightly talks and Negan's cautious, respectful touches, she felt better about it. She no longer feared that the trust she had in the other man was misguided. Negan could be an asshole sometimes, certainly, but he was an asshole who, in his own way, almost seemed to care about Mal. And maybe it was juvenile, selfish, ridiculous, but it was comforting to have someone who cared about him particularly.

Mal glanced over at Max, who was sleeping soundly, curled on the floor. He looked so young, was so young. Mal forgot that sometimes, and she had to scold herself for it. After everything, she's proud how grown up he is.

They continued to talk well into the night as the storm raged on outside. Mal's eyes bounced around from person to person, watching vigilantly as Negan dozed beside her.

There was a sudden weight against Mal's right side, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. As it was, she sucked in a shocked breath that made one Savior turn and look at her strangely. Negan had slumped over in his sleep, his head on Mal's shoulder. Mal looked at the man leaning on her for a second, considering pushing him away or waking him up, but... Mal realized she didn't mind. Negan was sleeping peacefully despite the way the rain was hammering down on the barn's tin roof, and Mal didn't feel remotely threatened. So she just sat back, trying and failing to bite back an amused smile. She caught the man's eye again, and he was giving her a look... more of confusion, but he forgets it, turning in his head.

A sudden crash from the front of the barn had her thoughts pulled elsewhere, and Negan startled awake against her.

"The fuck-"

Another crash against the front doors and the telltale sounds of snarling and scratching rose over the sounds of the storm. Mal leaped to her feet to see two of the Saviors throwing themselves against the barn doors, which were threatening to burst open.

Everyone sprang into action, running to help, piling against the heavy wooden doors. Mal slammed into them beside Bud, Negan behind her, and she could feel the way the wood shook under her, the weight of God-only-knows how many undead bodies trying to break inside. Seconds later, Mal found herself surrounded by the other members of her group, and, as much as it was not the time for this to be happening, she felt the icy shiver of fear rushing through her.

_Close. They're too close._

She wasn't sure who was pressed on either side of her, but she wasn't really sure that it mattered. She could feel herself taking quick, panicky breaths, her fingers trembling against the wood. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to focus on the sounds of the rain, of the groaning from the other side of the doors, anything to ground her in the moment, but the fear won out. Harsh images flashed through her mind each time someone jostled her or pressed against her.

Charlie, shoving her onto her stomach, the cold of concrete against her bare skin. Sharp, ripping pain shooting up her spine and down her legs, unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Vulgar, mocking words from behind her, so cruel that Mal felt them like they were being cut into her skin-

"Mal. Mal." A different voice, deep and gravelly and worried, was behind her now. She opened her eyes, tilting her head to see Negan over her shoulder, eyes wide with panic that Mal knew for sure was a reflection of her own expression. Negan's shoulder was pressed against the door, one hand beside Mal's head, and then it was off the door, hovering beside Mal, a question, always a question: _Is this okay?_

Mal nodded, and then Negan's arm was around her, using his body to shield Mal's. His hand rested above Mal's on the door, and Mal could hear the soft, whispered words falling from Negan's lips like cleansing rain:

_You're okay, you're okay, it's okay._


	22. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She's called Queen Arnica. She's the leader in such a damn heavenly group. Most of her people are women."
> 
> "Wait? The Queen Arnica?" Max said. "The Bounty Hunter who single handle against enemies, rallying a group of survivors from Bucks Country, Pennsylvania, leading to fight thousands of Infected in the haunted woodlands of the state forest."
> 
> "Yes, yes, and I'm pretty sure in the fuckin' card it says it all."

It seemed like hours before the Infected clawing at the barn doors let up, and when they finally did, everyone was too exhausted from exertion and lack of sleep to investigate why. Mal helped Negan and the Saviors push a few crates in front of the doors and then he crawled into a corner, pulling Max into her arms, and fell asleep almost instantly. Her last thoughts before sleep claimed her were of Negan's words, calming and deep, breathed into her ear so that she could hear them over the storm.

When she woke up a few hours later, Max sit. She kissed the tops of his head as a way of saying good morning.

"You sleep alright?" Mal asked, taking his hat off and smoothing a hand over Max's hair. He nodded. "I know last night was rough..."

"I'm alright, Mal." Max assured her. "Really. I'm okay. Everything worked out just fine."

-:-:-:-

They took a stop for a rest, some people didn't sleep well from the storm, and Negan and Mal decide to walk towards a farm that could have supplies. Negan took the barn while Mal searched the house. The house, small as it was, housed a decent amount of people to hide in. The floor is undergrowth of grass and moss, the walls cracked and paint peeled off. The cabinets were bare, dust filled the air, a few empty cans on the kitchen floor.

Suddenly Mal was attacked by two random men, trying to grab and bite her. They had to be cannibals, and she swung her machete at the shaggy haired man. Rounding punches at one, he falls towards the bathroom. His back landing on the lip of the toilet, his back snaps as she slams his head against the corner of the cabinet sink.

Shaggy haired man pulls on her hair, dragging her towards the hall to the bed. With gripping on the machete, throwing upwards in both hands, and it stops dead point in the middle of his face. Pulling the machete, he drops with a loud thud, dust exploding.

On the bed is a guitar, and Mal went over to play a song, to calm her down. Mal let her hand calm down, shaking from the pain of punching the men she'd killed in here. Clutching her hands Mal fingers moved over the strings of the guitar easily, she tuned the second top string to emit the perfect sound; the words tumbled out of her mouth effortlessly as she played the song, picking the strings between her fingers.

_I walk through the valley_   
_Of the shadow of death_   
_And I fear no evil_   
_Because I'm blind to it all_

_And my mind and my gun_   
_They comfort me_   
_Because I know I'll kill my enemies_   
_When they come_

_Surely goodness and mercy_   
_Will follow me all the days of my life_   
_And I will dwell on this earth forevermore_

_Said I walk beside the still waters_   
_And they restore my soul_   
_But I can't walk on the path of the right_   
_Because I'm wrong_

Silent steps pressed against the floor, but Mal knew who is was, Negan let her finish her song. She strums and stops playing.

_But I can't walk on the path of the right_   
_Because I'm wrong_

"What are you doing, baby girl?" The gruff voice asked softly. He knew the answer, he knew Mal too well.

Mal glanced down at the body by her feet. He stared at her, his face unwavering as Mal shifted her feet in the ground, she fiddled with the guitar before setting it down beside her on the bed. She stared at the object, so warm and comforting to her.

"Can I ask you a favor," she paused, not looking away from the instrument. "Promise me that when it comes I can borrow Ellie and use her for the moment. And I'm gonna kill every last one of them."

Mal looked up at the end of her whispered vow, to her right, leaning on the doorframe.

"Okay." He said. "You can use her, I promise."

-:-:-:-:-

Once Negan let them know they were only a few minutes' walk to the neighborhood, they parked, pulling off to the side of the road near the woods and parking amidst a few other abandoned cars so that they could remain undetected. The Saviors approached on foot, coming to a stop when they reached a large metal gate blocking off the front of the neighborhood. There was no seeing through it, as the community was completely walled off. The place had been devastated. And not just by the dead, Mal noticed immediately. Houses were burnt, reduced to blackened rubble and unstable charcoal skeletons. Furniture had dragged out into the streets, and there were bodies on the ground with limbs missing. Not got-gnawed-off-by-dead-fucks missing, either. Cut-off-by-the-living missing. Whoever had ransacked the place seemed to be long gone, but the dead still roamed the streets, stumbling idly around. Not too many, not enough to turn tail and run, but enough that they needed to be taken care of. She wondered why a Bounty Hunter would have this community, how-

And then they heard it. From behind the wall, the faint but unmistakable snarling. They stopped short, exchanging grim looks, and when Mal glanced at Negan, he calls one of his men to take it out.

When he went over, an arrow shot through the creatures head. Their faces weren't bleated or scared, and then a large man in a red medieval coat riding a horse.

"Who dares enter the Queen's chamber- Oh," the man exclaimed. "It's you. Sorry about that, dude."

"It's no problem, Jeremy. Having trouble with some shitbags?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, dude, I'll take you to our Queen."

"Queen?" Max questioned. What are these people thinking? Mal thought.

"She's called Queen Arnica. She's the leader in such a damn heavenly group. Most of her people are women."

"Wait? _The_ Queen Arnica?" Max said. "The Bounty Hunter who single handle against enemies, rallying a group of survivors from Bucks Country, Pennsylvania, leading to fight thousands of Infected in the haunted woodlands of the state forest."

"Yes, yes, and I'm pretty sure in the fuckin' card it says it all. Me and her go way back." He thinks back when he met her; good ol' times. He cheekily grinned. "She has a small community. It's a lesbian community, and I have no doubt there are few who are and I like to get a sho-ow."

She rolled her eyes. "So there's no men?"

"We have little," Jeremy said. "We used to have many men and children until the Claimers came. It sucked, knowing that we couldn't beat them from the weapons they had somehow. Now, badass Negan is coming to help, and Queen Arnica wants to join in."

They lapsed into silence after that, following Jeremy through a few of the houses, pawing through the scattered remains of garages and living rooms, careful to inspect the area for Infected before heading into another fence wall where there are people working on some crops. Lots of women stared at them, smiling in appreciation. Once they got a little further into the neighborhood, they caught sight of a high school, heading inside, through the halls to a leather theatre. Mal had to pause for a moment, gazing at the stage with the lights shining on the woman in a tall chair, a sword on her lap.

"Jeremy, my fellow man. You brought some guests." The woman called, a strong rich voice made her so royal yet so fake. Jeremy blushed, and Negan went closer to the stage.

"Welcome, fellow Saviors. Your highness, Queen Arnica is happily grateful for your services, in to help us in our quest, and conquer those vial and ruthless peasants." Negan walked up, and took her hand, kissing it.

Mal's eyes widen. What has Negan deal with? She knew many people going through a psychological stage when the Black Night affected them, but never seen this fantasy imagination. She doesn't like how people would use fantasy in efforts for people to forget everything bad in the Ruins, confused with heroes and villains, winners and losers.

Queen Arnica dressed and acted like a dramatic queen. Her dreadlocks hair is silver like a Shepard dog with many layers of grey, a red feather on one side. Clothes are a long tan summer coat, boots are leather and high knee'd. The weapon was a forty-seven inch handmade samurai sword, a katana.

She was watching her, Mal was getting uncomfortable when she gestured toward her. "I haven't seen your rare beauty. Tell me milady, are you a fine knight of Negan or a fair maiden of his wife?"

She almost burst out laughing, giggling instead to control her outrageous outburst.

"No, I'm a Savior."

"I'm sorry, but you are the most beautiful milady I've seen, and Negan has many maidens in his kingdom. Though, I would have been quite concerned about the age gap, but age is just a frail number."

"Uh, don't fucking put me in jail," Negan said. "I'll go legal age, eighteen-"

"And I won't ever agree with his option." Mal pointed, and Negan shrugged, playfully pouted at Mal. Actually, Negan did felt reject. He shouldn't feel that childish, but it did somehow brought a little discomfort.

"Anyway, my Queen. You all heard the shits going on here."

"Aye," she said, a sour look on her face. "The Claimers took forged upon us, stealing women and children away from our peaceful community. We fought poorly, many people died. But now, the Saviors are here." She gleefully smiles her bright teeth. "I smile, and why I smile. It's because I live to tell the tales of two communities, different lives and rules, and nothing alike. Now, we work as a whole, as a whole group of people, survivors. I smile to see that things will change, and a day will pass time as someday we will become one and make the Ruins out world. I smile, to see a glorious day!"

She stands up from her thrown, putting her sword on her waist sheath. "I will have few people joining your battle, and this will be the day of victory. Our fellowmen's that we lost will not be our defeated moment, it'll be our triumph in glory."

"Hell, yeah." Jeremy exclaimed.

"Jeremy."

"Sorry, my queen."

"Well, let's get this motherfucking show on the road. My Queen, you and your people will go with Mal and Max, the others and I will take the other vehicle."

-:-:-:-:-

Thunder rumbled in the distance, it was going to the rain soon. Mal took over sometime during the journey and the Queen Arnica's people got comfortable in their seats, half were checking on their weapons, and the Queen was- well, being like a queen. Strong and upfront. And Max yawned as he tried to get some more sleep. The drive was long as she followed the vehicle up ahead, and no one spoke even once. The Queen is beside her and it's going to be some awkward conversations. Talking or looking at her is just plain weird, Mal won't be able to take her seriously. How can people have a well secured place yet have this fantasy image of a Queen living in a fairy tale.

"I see how you look at me." The Queen said, glancing at Mal. Mal flailed her eyes back to the road. "I know what you are thinking. Cut the queen act, stop tricking people into living in a fantasy."

Mal slowly nodded.

"I understand. People want someone to follow. Makes them feel safe. People who feel safe are more useful, less dangerous... more protective. They see a queen like me or like Negan, hearing stories that are spread across the world, treating them as heroes, but they aren't. My parents were actors before the Black Night, gave me plays they have done, and I wanted to become an actor. Thing is when the Black Night came, I lost a lot very quickly... people I loved, they were just gone. When I came upon Bounty Hunters, I found myself, who I really am, and I made a community, a name, and people treat me because they are safe. Negan does that in the Sanctuary, the Eleven Towns, any community. I named myself Queen Arnica because I was her, a part of her, and I found of my true identity as a woman. My years, I played and costumed and act as a man, but in truth I was a strong woman, wanting to do the right thing for my people, to show everyone is equal, and we can work together."

Mal listened to her, and has nothing to say. She then didn't have a grudge on her, she understood the meaning. She wasn't wrong, so Mal smiled. Then she realized what the Queen meant at the end, and what tempted to say it but didn't know if it would be rude to ask.

"Are you...um, transgender?"

Queen Arnica smiles proudly. "It was hard for the surgery back at the community and getting the hormones for me, however, I did not give up."

"I know people did that back then-"

"Even when the world changed the Ruins, people did become comfortable vastly with each other, yet some still discriminate people, also like me. People have this bias imagine- what's the phrase. Survival for the fittest. People say the strongest is the fittest, but it's the well adapted people and capable of seeing each other as the same."

She nodded. "I guess we say truce."

"You don't have too. And call me Arnica."

And Mal laughed, continuing the long drive as spitting rain poured on the deserted roads.

-:-:-:-:-

As the journey continued, Negan was getting close to the destination, the vine covered sign reading Pittsburgh and the population. The city is a ghost town, nothing around the highway. Looking up the mirror he sees Mal behind his tail. God, were her eyes this bright? He notices the gleam of her crystallizing blue eyes flash upon him. He chuckled, glancing down by his seat of Ellie propped up, and reached over to caress his dirty girl. Even Mal will become a dirty girl on her dirty fight and be dirty in blood and dirt. It was obvious to the men, but importantly towards Negan, care for Mal about him, and prayed for nothing to happen with each other.

"Oh, shit..." Negan muttered. He rolled his window done as Mal pulled up beside him. Everyone looked out to see the rest of the highway. One of the streets was blocked and the only routes were back or into the city. Mal's vehicle could go in, but he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to split up and meet up. Max in Mal's care stirred awake, he realized the situation.

He let out a big yawn, "Now what?" She asked. Mal thought about it for a moment, has nothing. She lets Negan make the choice.

"Screw it..." He muttered. "You take the road carefully, we enter to the right. And Mal, be careful."

"You too. All of you." Mal called, and he took the road down into the city. The city is empty, nothing too bad as he drove to an intersection. Then a man runs out, holding his stomach.

"Help-"

Negan rammed his foot on the gas, and ran over the man against the wall.

"Holy shit boss!"

"When I know a Claimer, I don't take any fucking chance. Move out the car and search the city, see if any are shitting their pants off." He takes his bat.

Then three things happened all at the same time that changed everything in Negan's life, then and now to the end.

First, out of the corner of his eye, he saw two shapes break from the cover of a rusted car to his left. One was a huge and burly, with skin as pale as any Runner. And the other was slim and sun-freckles, with masses of red curls fired at them.

"GET DOWN!" Negan yelled and his men, include him brought their guns out and fired back.

The second thing that happened proved to him it's a trap. His men screamed at the sound of wheels coming out of the building, and all their hearts stopped, Negan regretting every decision he made to come in. A large jeep with a machine gun rolled up, a body hanged on the front, shirtless, arm and ankles tied back as the exposed chest is carved with a big ' _C_ '.

The third thing happened in that same splintered second was Negan yelled for his men to run then the echo of gunshots aimed at Negan, and weight of figures jump on him, twisted and fell on the ground.


	23. Chapter 21

Max shifted into the front seat, played on the dash box where he puts a CD, and plays an old country song, watching out the window of the huge, solid buildings. Then the vehicle suddenly stopped to a halt.

Mal and everyone gasped at a man in the middle of the street, yelling for help and covered in blood. Mal wasn't going to buy it.

"Are we gonna help him?" Max asked.

"Everyone, put your seatbelt." Mal ordered, putting on her seatbelt. Everyone else did, knowing what Mal's going to do.

"What about the guy?"

She gripped the wheel. "He ain't even hurt." She muttered, and she stepped on the gas, full throttle. The injured man then pulls out a gun and started firing, more men came from hiding and started bolting toward the vehicle. Men threw bottles and bricks at the vehicle, busted cracks on their windows. As Mal moved away the fight, Max looks at the right of a hill where he saw a bus coming towards them.

"Watch out!" Jeremy cried as the his slammed on them. The whole car pivoted, the sound of steal crashing into steal warehouse, and stopped on a wall, jarring their senses as the music played.

After waking up for a second, slowly getting up from the crash, she looks back at Max and the group.

"You OK, Max?" She muttered. One of them women opens the door, and pulls out her weapon.

"My Queen, Saviors. Get out."

Everyone gets out as Max is grabbed, biting on the Claimers hand but is then slapped on the ground. Mal ran over and kicked the guy off her. Picking his head, she slammed him at a pile of bricks and killed him.

"We have to leave," the Queen ordered.

"I have to call to Negan. It's all a trap-"

Then in the distance was gunfire, a huge caliber. Her heart drenched in fear.

They grabbed their packs and weapons, running towards a shutter door, leading to an alleyway. "There over here!" A Claimer called before Mal shot her colt at his neck, blood squirted and he gurgles on the ground.

Everyone runs up as they attack on the Claimers; Jeremy chopping with his ax, three are with bow and arrows, Max and Mal with their pistols. As they took out only five Claimers they sneaked a fast pace towards the direction of the gunfire. It was nearby the main city, passing through the crowded streets. Mal wished she was there, she was so worried of the Saviors, Negan. She can't imagine what to do without him.

As she finds herself around a corner of an intersection, she gasps to the sight of dead bodies. The dead Saviors scattered the ground; there was a pile on top of each other, all support the many bullets they've been hit. It's a massacre. "We have to be- Mal!" Arnica growled when Mal ran out of the opening.

 _Where is he?_ She hoped to not see the clear imagine of his mangled body on the ground, full of holes, his chest not moving and breathing. She pushed aside the bodies from their pile, and...

There was no Negan.

A relief let her breathed normally, yet her mind rattled on where he went. Her eyes trailed a trail of blood, heading deeper to a building.

"We have to go the bridge. It's where we have to go and meet up."

"We can't leave Negan out here." Mal complained.

"I know I hate it, but Negan told us if anything happens to us, head for the yellow bridge. Please, Mal, just-"

Mal clocked Arnica on the nose, and sprinted the trail of blood. When Max and one of the Queen's people try to go after her, she stops them.

"No. She'll come back. She's doing the right reason in a risky way."

Max squirmed, wanting to follow Mal. "It's okay, little knight, she's a strong woman and nothing will stop her."

-:-:-:-:-

Mal avoided any signs or voices of Claimers. Sneaking and hiding in the shadows, running down to open streets to small cornered buildings. She kept hating herself, she knew there's danger, and should have turned that vehicle around and warned about Negan. He must feel guilty as well with a few of his men died.

Mal sprinted inside a building when something swung close to her head. She fell backwards, sliding on the slick floor, aiming a gun at the familiar face.

"Negan," she said, looking for any wounds. He was pissed; there is blood covered on his face and the peak of his white shirt, he has a cut on his shoulder. "Are you OK? What happened?"

"Don't fuckin' worry about me. It was a damn trap, all of it! When the truck came in, my men- fuck, they jumped on me, protected me. I didn't need it, I... What the shit are you doing here?"

"I'm not leaving you here." She spat, pointing out her care for the terrifying leader.

He snarled, moving closer that Mal had to back up against the wall. "You should of fucking left me there. If something happened to you, I would die before you get hurt and taken by those monsters."

"And I'm not leaving out leader here. Without you, Sanctuary will be chaos without his leader. They need you, I need you." She meant it and Negan had to make sure she really does care for him. Her eyes are so scared for Negan it ached his heart.

They moved as quietly as they could, maneuvering his way around the Claimers, sometimes just barely avoiding detection. For just a minute there, Mal felt like they were going to go unnoticed. And then she stepping in a market and stepped on a piece of loose rubble from the ceiling above them. It shifted, grinding against the concrete on the ground and other bits and of rubble. It was just loud enough to gain the attention of the Claimers. "Shit, tourist!" One of them called. Negan moved fast, jumping out of the way as a bullet from the Claimer's pistol ripped through the air past him. Negan swung his bat at his face, killing him in three hits.

When Mal had her chance, he took aim and fired. One of the Claimer's heads rocked back with a spray of blood and gray matter as the bullet slammed into his forehead. They crouched back down on the windowless window and looked around them. The city is empty, there is no voices being called and no gunshots. Suddenly voices are heard.

"Arnica." He silently called out, running at them.

"Thank heavens you're both alright."

Max hugged at Mal tightly, whimpering against her. "Wished you left without me." Negan said and it pained Mal to hear his dead low voice.

"Alright, there's the bridge. That's our way out of here." Negan said

They continued on the long walk towards the bridge. The group had to sneak past the old quarantine zone habited by Claimers, which was hard enough. Hiding, taking them out silently, and use the arrows to kill the ones up on the walls guarding.

They were closer to the bridge now, but things went from bad to worse seeing that the Claimer machine-gun jeep come to the street. The group crouched and hid themselves of a store. A woman with a chain around her neck was running but miserably shot by the jeep. Two Claimers come out of the car, checking on her.

"She got nothing. Another waste."

"We heard gunshots of the traps. Let's head back and search Negan and his whore."

After coming down the street, it leads them to climb up a bus, and towards a large slew water. Each one jumps in, treading water when Negan was the last and sees Mal hesitantly looking petrified of the water. "What's wrong?"

Embarrassed, she mutters. "I... can't swim. I never learned how to swim."

"Are you- never mind." Then Negan had one arm up. "Hold on to me while I swim us there."

"But-"

"You're not that heavy. C'mon."

She slides down, jumping on Negan, almost drowning him. She wraps herself like a monkey on a tree as he swam through the murky water. In the moment, she was hot under her jacket, especially her shoulders and arms are exposed now. Her face an inch away from him, her arms wrapped around his neck, legs on his waist.

"Claimers." Jeremy warned, and swam up to a bus and hid behind. Watching the jeep pass by the bridge, she noticed how close their faces are, his nose brushed against hers, and they awkwardly look away before they swam to a flipped bus, climbing up and head inside an old coffee shop.

"Ugh, this place stinks," Max exclaimed, smelling the strong scent of unattended rotting wet wooden counters and tabletops, the bottom of the stairwell and the main floor is covered in small water. Countering to the upper floor, it led to a large place, so wide like the Sanctuary trading system first floor. The table has a smooth silk cloth, plates of very silver dishes, a wide theatre displays a stand of paintings, which some are ripped and torn or dusted.

"Fancy place," Max said. "Ever stay in a place like this?"

Negan huffed, "Fuck no. This is too rich for my blood."

"I haven't either. Lived in a small cottage." Queen Arnica said as well.

As they went up the stairs into a room clutter of old historical paintings, inscription, costumes, and many things for a museum, more Claimers roamed the halls. The group had no choice but to kill them. They sneak, choking them, slicing throats and stab in their temples, and through the heart.

After a couple of close calls and more dead Claimers by their hands, two people cut through the elevator shaft. Everyone boosted every up, and when Negan boosts Mal up to the elevator doors elevator car came loose and fell down the shaft with Negan.

"Negan!" Mal cried while climbing into the hallway. Negan emerged from the flooded shaft, coughing and grunting in the pain from the impact.

"I'm alright. You okay?" Negan asked.

"No. You scared the shit outta me!" Mal spat.

"We will come down," Jeremy calls.

"No. You stay there, I'll make my way up."

"Don't do anything stupid." Mal prayed, hoping Negan is careful and has no injury or bites.

Negan alone again. Tired, sore and fucking pissed off to any of those cock sucking Claimers. He was in full rampage; he heard the moans of Infected, all of them bloated with water. He swings his bat, their heads exploded milky grey water brain matter than black blood matter. Swing after swing of the bat, Infected's head spread all over the walls and in the dirty water. Runners screeched and clawed their way to him, sweat pouring down his face and his vision is fogging up in the air, blindly fire off a couple of swings where the faint moving figures stood.

Negan barely got out in time to drink up the fresh air he encountered when he ran up the stairs, kill the remaining of his cannibalistic, and Infected pursuers.

"I'm. Too. Fucking old for this shit." He gasped catching his breath. "I gotta find Mal."

He proceeded up the stairwell back into the hotel. This time he entered the kitchen when he immediately ducked into cover.

"Ok, it's down, finish it!" A Claimer shouted, his partner walked over and shot it in the head, making sure it's officially dead.

"Nicely done, you bit?" The partner asked,

"Not today, you?"

"Not today." He replied. "You heard the trap go off. It's Negan and his whore."

"Simon would like that. He's staying up as a sniper in the neighborhood. We will have to bring them over."

Being as quiet as possible, Negan took down each of them by getting close and driving shivs into their necks. Blood poured over his hand from holding their throats open for the blade to sink into. Negan jumped at the sight of another Claimer, surprising him, and he pulled out his revolver and shot him once in the head like Clint Eastwood quick draw scenes from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Luckily for Negan, they were the only three hunters in there but after looking around with his revolver gripped in his hand, he sighed in relief and holstered his weapon. Just when he thought it was safe climbing the ladder he felt something hit him and fell back to the ground, into a deep puddle of water breathing in the liquid.

He sat up coughing up the water he choked, before he was able to get his bearings. The Claimer pounces on top of him and holds his head underwater. Negan struggled until he managed to get a good solid hit to the face, but he didn't go down. Instead made him angry and once again began holding Negan's head underwater. He tried to reach for the bat while under the water, his vision slip away drowning.

_Bang!_

The Claimer fell off him. Negan leaned up gasping the air into his lungs, and coughing up the water. He saw Max holding the gun with stern eyes. Mal came over and patted his back.

"Man, I shot the hell outta that guy, huh?" He said. The body lied there limp in the water and made the water turn red.

"Yeah, you sure did," Negan replied.

Mal started checking for anything, her hands traveling everywhere in his body as he clasps his hand on hers. "It's OK. I'm alright."

-:-:-:-:-

By the time of climbing up to the rooftops, walking across on a ladder to a constructed ladder, out in the open street are Claimers scattered. "Oh, shit get down!" Negan whispered, pulling the teens away from each other and into cover. Negan did a head count of hunters that flooded the courtyard below. "Alright I'm gonna jump down there and I'm gonna clear us a path."

Mal shook herself away from the moment. "You're not going alone." The Queen order. "No knight should go on his own."

"I think we have more of a chance to snipe them all as you get closer to them. If two people snipe them if you are in trouble, we will."

"Good," Negan said, "Mal and Max can snipe. I reckon you're a good shot.

As they descend down, Negan looks backs at Max and Mal, holding up a rifle and a pistol. Mal looks back at Negan. "You make every shot count."

"I got this." She said.

And the group of the Queen and Negan jumped down.

-:-:-:-:-

"They are all dead!" A Claimer shouted. "They're all fucking dead!"

"What the hell's he yapping about? Take a breath. Who's dead?" The other asked.

"Whole crew. The 76 look out guys. The Saviors and that bitch killed them. Killed all of 'em."

"Shit. Have you talked to the boss?"

"Yeah, he wants everyone to hold their ground. Watch the gate." All a sudden, a Molotov shattered in front of them setting them ablaze and they screamed in pain, a shot zipped from the sky hitting a hitter in the head and fell limp to the ground. The Queen and her fellow people peaked out behind cover duel, wielding their arrows and Negan with his revolver, killing every one of them. Another sniper took aim his rifle but Mal and Max managed to take him out.

"Good job, fair maiden and little knight." One of the women bellowed, the Queen smiled, laughing as she sees all the Claimers defeated.

After killing off the remaining Claimers, Negan told the teens to come down.

"Nice shootin' Texas," Jeremy said. Max smiled and helped Mal jump down to the ground and walk up to Negan, flicking the blood off the bat.

"Our glory is relishing." The Queen laughs, spinning around, her jacket flapping open. "I smile for victory, and yet remorse your lose, Negan." He frowned and kept walking.

Suddenly a loud engine rolls in the street.

" _RUN_!"

And everyone runs away the loud heavy shots coming at them, slipping in a narrow street. The alleyway they took was a trap, and Mal looks up to the stairs and tramped up. As climbing onto the stairs, Negan moves on his back against the wall, sliding over to the edge of the building.

Slowly each of them followed, watching down below their feet until the jeep pulled up. "They can't see us," Negan whispered and was right as the jeep pulled away. "Okay, let's cut through the building and off the streets where that jeep is." Negan climbed into the window, and all of a sudden someone grabs him from behind.

Max rushes in and slashes the guy's arm with his blade. Mal pulled the man off of Negan and punched the man many times until he's bruised up and beaten.

"Mal, stop it." Willow with the bow and arrow pleaded. Mal looks up to see a kid pointing a gun towards her.

"Leave her alone." The little black haired girl said.

"Put the gun down, Sarah." The woman with the hijab said. "They're not them."

Jeremy turned to her. "How did you know we're not them?"

Max put his blade away and the woman leans on the wall, holding her bruised ribs. "Claimers don't allow women or children around without a chain."

Negan seemed to smile, a good sign for Mal to see his crazy and beautiful smile. "Good I didn't put a leash on you, Mal."

"At least you're still joking."

And the smile disappears. She shouldn't open her damn mouth.

"Man, you hit hard." She said.

"Yeah, well I was trying to kill you," Mal replied.

"My name's Farina. This is sister, Sarah."

"You're bleeding." Sarah worriedly said. Farina began wrapping her arm in a bandage she took from Sarah's backpack.

"I'm Negan, Mal, Max, Queen Arnica, Jeremy, Rose, Enid, and Willow." He nodded. "How many you got with you?"

"It's just us. Me and Sarah. We were the only ones who got away from the ambush. Now it's all about getting out of this shithole."

"We can help," Max said. But Mal wanted to interject. "What? Safety in numbers and all that."

"He's right Mal, more people to help and they might know where their hideaway is." The Queen explained.

"I found a hideout, be safer if we chat there," Farina added.

Following the two women, Farina talks about where they were, at Seattle, had a large group in campgrounds. It was then coming to Pittsburgh the ambush started, and now they've been hiding for a week. The group comes across a toy store when the jeep rolls in. All of them duck under the windows, watching as the truck passes by them.

"The Claimers took this place since the Flyer Frontiers left this around the quarantine zones. Guess going one place to another was tiring." Farina explained and then her tone changes to quiet to demanding when she saw Sarah holding a toy.

"Put that down."

"But-"

"What did I say? Sarah, what was the rule?"

Sarah grumbled. "Only take things that are useful."

"Exactly."

After crossing over building to building out of a window, they arrived in the safe house, an old office compartment.

"So, how old are you?" Sarah asked Max.

"Thirteen, you?" He replied.

"Same."

"Oh you're thirteen, huh?" Farina teased.

"I'm close." She spat. Farina chuckled a little as she opened the door to the office, a comfy couch on the wall, a room with a chair. Max and Sarah plopped down onto it, he lets out a comfortable sigh of relief.

The kids being out blueberries from Sarah while the adults and Mal have a conversation with Farina.

"So why haven't you left?" Negan was the first to ask.

"Been waiting for the right opportunity, and here are a bunch of Bounty Hunters. Yeah, I heard of you. I heard the gunfire and saw the bodies, thought it was one of my people."

Negan's eyes drifted on the ground, a low sigh in his throat escaped. "I'm sorry about that. Now all there is getting to that bridge." Farina walks up to the window, pointing at the yellow bridge. "Claimers were guarding it a lot of them. But coming at night time, it's a skeleton crew. After sunset, that's our window."

"That'll work."

She looks over to the kids who were laughing and enjoying some blueberries, She smiled at seeing her little sister smile which she hasn't seen in a long time.

"He doesn't seem bothered by any of this." Farina said towards Negan, thinking it was his.

Mal decided to change the subject, "So where are you headin'?"

She pulls out a chair before replying. "We decided on somewhere out the west, we're gonna join up with them."

"So you don't know where they are and you're just gonna drag her across the country to find 'em?" Mal scoffed motioning towards everyone, including the kids.

She leaned over, a stern cold look stared at Mal. "I'll tell you what, how about I worry about my sister and you worry about his kid?"

Farina smirked and went over the plan with the group. The plan was at night they had to sneak across the bridge and to an abandoned military radio station where Farina and her group were originally were going to go. Negan and the Queen accepted the plan, and Farina suggested they rest up.

The sun fully set in the distance, the kids slept on the couch, Queen and the group on the chairs, and Mal stayed up to watch as Negan went to the other room. The Queen peeked one eye open, seeing the fidgeting Mal.

"Go to your king, Mal. Check him up, he'll listen."

Mal sneaks inside the room. Negan leaned on the window, his face is monotone and she can't tell what he's going through. Before closing the door, Negan grabbed the bat and threatening pointed at her.

"S-sorry, I just wanted to check on you."

"I'm alright."

"You're not. I saw the cut on your arm and leaving it can bring infection."

"Mal-"

Mal shoved Negan on the chair. "Take your clothes off." She takes a bowl, pouring her bottle of water in it.

Negan couldn't hold back the cheeky smile that slid across his face. "So you finally want to see me naked? You are full of surprises."

Mal stared back at him with dangerous eyes and he chuckles. He unzips and pulls his jacket off, setting it off the side and takes his stained white shirt.

With one hand of the rag and the other with stitches in case, Mal swallowed hard and tried not to question why she was having to force herself to look Negan in the eye. His wisp chest hair traveled down to the waist, more displays of tattoos he has. She goes on his arm and there's only a small cut. She holds the rag, cleaning it.

"Just a cut, don't need stitches." Mal didn't realize she was watching him until Negan's eyes found her again and she felt her face grow warm.

"Why?"

"What?"

Negan shrugged, thumb absentmindedly rubbing at the worn denim. "I don't fucking understand why I'm here, Mal. Just...I was an asshole, did everything a hard leader should, and they throw themselves and died because of my sack of shit life." He murmured the words.

"They thought you are a great leader." She replied absently, Negan wasn't buying it. "You may have done shitty things, but you gave them a safe place. A community where no one has to have one eye open to sleep. You gave people hope, and they died because they want you to live on and save people. Believe me, I know it. I remember thinking why people that only know me to plan out our escape and yet sacrifice themselves for me. It's because I did something good, I gave them hope." Mal gave his knee a squeeze.

"Mal," He murmured, and looked up at her, and there it was, etched deep in his eyes, in the worried lines of his face: fear. Not just "I don't know about this" fear, but real, deep terror seated in his pale eyes. It made Mal lose her breath for a moment, made her want to pull Negan in closer, make that look go away.

"Would you do it?"

"Negan-"

"Please?"

"I would, but I rather fight by your side."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," He whispered, the words a weight in the air between them. "I know what you're thinking, and I fucking get it, I do, but I swear to you, Mal, nothing like that is going to happen. I'll die before I let that happen to you again. You, or anyone else. Whatever you fucking need, I've got your back."

Mal's eyes widened, locked intensely on Negan's, and Negan held his gaze, letting her look, letting her see just how much he meant it. After a long moment, Mal finished the cleaning as Negan was about to put his shirt and jacket back on, Mal nodded, dropping her eyes. A moment later, Negan felt a warm, hesitant hand slide over his, squeezing.

If anyone asked, his stomach definitely didn't swoop in a ridiculously giddy manner. No fucking way.


	24. Chapter 22

The sun is gone, night time arose. Negan wakes up before Mal was about to wake him, yawning and stretching his muscles. It was a good rest, now he is itching to go the tower, thinking that only little of the Claimers are around the are, including Simon the leader. He still kept his promise for Mal to use Ellie on Simon. He so would like to get a taste of clocking his head, the fury burning out of him of Mal being hurt by anther filthy monster. He can't. It's Mal's battle and she needs her release.

Packing everything they needed, Farina order Sarah many times, overprotecting her of demands. "Now we're gonna be moving fast, okay? So no matter what you stick like glue." Farina said, making sure Sarah caught every word.

"Like Glue," Sarah repeated.

"Like Glue."

"Got it," Sarah said.

"Good. Good." She patted her shoulder, walking up the group of Bounty Hunters. "Y'all ready?"

"Fence force to war, shining knight maiden." Queen Arnica replied.

Farina took point leading all them through the building at the late hour of the night, making no sound as possible. Mal has slight doubts that Farina knew what she was doing, but her assured that she did. When back down to the ground level, two Claimers stood by, talking about the loses and only now seven are alive, including Simon.

Silently, Mal and Farina come behind them and together smothered them to death. Outside all of the covered boulders, peaking out and sneaking by carefully they made it close to the walls. Suddenly a spotlight locked in the distance. One comes over to the wandering Infected. One at a time the band sneak across the street, avoiding the spotlight and embracing the darkness which was their best friend at the time until the reached the wall.

Willow used her bow to take out a lone guard on the ground, the arrow whooshed through the air and pierces right through the Claimers throat by the spotlight. He falls to the ground making gurgling sounds of choking on his own blood until he suffocates.

"Alright, we did it," Farina said, checking the clip in his pistol. "How many have you guys killed?"

"A fuck ton of them." Negan replied. "Now five more to go."

Coming up to the gate, Negan and the woman help Farina to open a shuttered gates. Suddenly headlights appeared, they hurried to shove open the gate and the kids ran through, then Mal, Arnica, and lastly Negan and Farina, closing the gate again then barred it. The only question was how long do they have before the door holds against the Jeep.

"Keep your eyes open, we ain't out of this mess yet." Negan breathed. He looks around to see half a latter on a semi's cargo hold. "Alright check it out!" He then helped boost Farina onto the cargo hold.

"We're good, Sarah let's go," She said.

_Crash!_

The Jeep was trying to break through the gate, Negan boosted Sarah then Max, the women, Jeremy, then Queen Arnica up on the cargo hold. The ladder broke off when Mal gripped onto it, but Sarah and Jeremy caught her and pulled her up.

"Okay, help me carry Negan," Mal said and she sees the look of panicked in Farina eyes, Claimers trying to break through the gate. Before she tries to scream at her, she shakes her head.

"I'm sorry. We're leaving."

"What?" Sarah gasped, but she pulled her away.

"You can't leave him!" Jeremy cried.

"No, just go. I could find a way out." Negan orders them, and Mal had enough. Farina had no trouble of leaving, the Queen and her people were hesitate but left when Negan shouted them out. Mal couldn't believe this, so she made a decision that she would never do in her life.

She jumps down with him.

"I told you to get the fuck out." He sure is disappointed, knowing that he doesn't want her hurt, doesn't want the Claimers take her away from Negan's hands.

"We stick together." She said.

Negan thought quick, running to the shutter door. Both crouched and lifted the door open as she slides in quickly to hold the door open for him. When he holds it, the gates bust open, spotlight finding and then spitting at Negan, coming closer and closer before he rolled right under. Mal drops the shutter down closed just in time before the claimed mounted machinegun jeep began to open fire at them.

"Better get out of here now." Negan and Mal sneak through the bar, squeezing through the chained door and finally they were at the yellow bridge, almost halfway out of Pittsburgh.

The jeep tried to break trough the other gate, bullets raining everywhere. Negan instinctively took Mal's hand and ran to the bridge. The Jeep busts through the gate and the mounted machine gunner began firing at them as they ran. Dodging into tight corners of skeleton cars, turning to a large semi truck that blocked the whole side of the bridge. The jeep stops to a dead end, but then again so have Mal and Negan. Half the bridge is gone, asphalt and metal constructions sticking out. There was no way to cross over.

"Fucking fuckity-"

"How many bullets do you have left?" Mal asked him, checking hers and there are only six in the chamber.

"You fucking serious?" Negan argued. "I'm not gonna let you die or get taken from them again. Not one fucking chance."

"We have to jump then."

"No. It's too high and you can't swim."

The Jeep began shoving other cars out of the way a few more seconds they would be torn to shreds.

"There's no time to argue," Mal said before she runs and jumps off the bridge.

Negan shouts. "Mal!" He follows behind her and plummets into the freezing cold water.

Water filled their senses as they get caught by the current dragging them away from the danger zone. Negan sputtered and coughed out the water as he calls and searches desperately for her. "Mal," he calls, a whimper escaped his throat when he sees a small head peaking out of the water. The heavy current pushed him closer to her and wrapped her tightly.

"I got you." Negan assured. "I got- ah, shit..."

He's knocked out by the boulder he hit on his back.

_Slam!_

-:-:-:-:-

"Farina, he's awake!" A voice called, Negan wakes up. He sees the beach he lays on, the group is back and he panics as to where Mal is. He spots her on the ground.

"She's not breathing." Max screams, useless of helping her. "She's not breathing."

In action, Negan dove on his knees and remember his course as a teacher. Lifting back her head, he breathes two breaths and starts compressing, counting in his head thirty. And another two breathes, compress, and another two breathes and compress.

And Mal coughs out water, Negan push her aside to not choke on the water. "You OK?"

She nods. "It's alright."

"You see what I tell you? She's good. Everything's fine." Farina chuckles. "You guys have taken quite a bit of water, when-"

Queen Arnica smacks her face with the halt of the sword, Farina drops like a penny on the sandy ground, and the Queen pointed the tip of the sword to her throat.

"The fuck's wrong with you?!" Farina spat.

"Farina!" Sarah cried.

Jeremy holds her back. "I get you're all pissed but she's not gonna do anything."

"You sure about that?" The Queen said.

"Your Majesty..." Willow intervened.

"She left us to die out there-"

"No. You had a chance to make it out there and you did. But coming back for you meant to put him at risk." Farina said, pointing to Sarah.

"She saved them. Negan and Mal would of drowned." Max assured. The Queen sighed and Sarah knelt down to her sister.

"It's fine though. I'm okay." She hopped to her feet. "You know what it's worth I'm really glad we spotted you. That radio tower is on the other side of this cliff." Farina and Sarah scouted a head along the shoreline.

"Negan-" Before Mal could speak, a hand swats her very hard across the face. Shock bewildered her of Negan slapping her. "What was that for?"

"Don't you ever fuckin' make those stupid ass decision. You've could of died there. I won't accept that, OK!"

He followed by the girls. "Neg..."

Jeremy pats her right shoulder. "Just let dude cool off steam."

The survivors continue their journey across the soft sand of the shored off beach. An abandon boat laid on the cold sand, they search for supplies and had nothing but gas. Mal catches up to Negan who's avoiding Mal's sight, swinging the bat left to right to distract himself. She didn't know what the right words to say. She saved their lives with risking herself, she had too. There was no other way.

"I'm sorry, Negan. I thought it was the only way."

"I know. But I couldn't lose you. Not today again."

Negan watched as Mal twined their fingers together, his hands still restless even against Mal's own. "Last night, you said...you said that you'd die before you'd let...before you'd let somethin' like Charlie or anything happen to me again," Mal whispered. "Did you mean that?"

"I did," Negan confirmed, almost shyly.

"Why?"

"Because that shit makes me fucking sick," Negan growled, voice low. "There's people that deserve to get roughed up, people that deserve to die. There's nobody that deserves that. There's no fucking justification for it. None. And I...I don't know, Mal. Chalk it up to a lack of self-preservation, chalk it up to me really fuckin' hating that shit, chalk it up to me wantin' to protect the first person I've let myself get close to in a long time. But I'm not about to let that happen to you again."

"That's...that's a whole lot to put on the line for someone you barely know," Mal breathed.

Negan turned to look Mal in the eye. "I know you, Mal." His words hung heavy in the air between them, lingering between their lips. Mal swallowed roughly, and Negan's eyes were drawn to the curve of her throat.

"Yeah," Mal murmured, "I guess you do."

Coming up to a ridge of a valley hill, they had to go inside a sewer. The smell is ghastly, their feet are becoming damp, there's barely any light inside the place and it ran like a maze. After making out the flooded area, the band of survivors came up to a more decorative entrance, signs of Flyer Frontiers flag but spray painted into a word: safe zone.

"You think people are living in here?" Sarah asked.

"Looks like it." Rose said.

Negan proceeded to open the door, suddenly was startled by the sound of bottles being shattered on the ground.

"Oh shit!" Negan exclaimed. "Sound traps."

"A what?" Max asked.

"It's sort of an alarm. Someone used to live here."

Jeremy looked around, "Don't look like that's the case anymore."

The place was deserted, Sarah didn't like the idea someone had to be living in the sewers. Mal's eyes were drawn to a board near the entrance that stated an 'important notice'. People tried to keep things organized while being held up down here but now the place was deserted. The place is quiet, too quiet. There were no signs of infected anywhere, not to mention it has been a while since they had seen any infected because of the Claimers doing a surprisingly good job of keeping Pittsburgh untouched. Then Max and Sarah found a make shift soccer goal which they played around with. The place must of had kids living here.

Deeper in the sewers, it lead them to two ways in the sewers. Farina said to the left and went in, cautiously listening and watching out for Infected or any signs of people which is doubtful considering the place is run over and deserted. As Mal steps foot, she was startled by the sight of a barrel fall to the ground. She looks back to see a huge metal gate about to fall.

The gate was about to fall on Sarah and Mal pull her away before the steel gate crushed her

"Sarah!" Farina cried.

"Yeah, I'm cool, Mal had my back." Sarah gasped.

"That was me. I must've triggered a safety gate or somethin'." Mal said. Mal and Sarah were trapped on the other side and everyone on the other tried to lift the gate open with no success. Max walked up to the small opening in the gate.

"So, this is awkward," Max said to Sarah.

Then a pitch of human screams echoes the sewers.

"Runners!" The Queen exclaimed as a pack of them came running at the band. The gate wasn't budging and had no other choice but to run.

"Sarah, you stay close to Mal!" Farina ordered. "You keep her safe!"

The group they ran off away from the Runners and Mal and Sarah watch the Runners ran past them until they were gone from sight. "Now, you listen and copy my movements. I say something for you to do, you do it. Got it?"

"Yes."

As they moved down through the tunnels they suddenly hear distant shouting and gunfire. "Is that them?" Sarah asked. Without question, they all ran to the sounds of the gunfire and can see the group run towards them.

"Sarah!" Farina called, running to her and hugging her little sister, Mal followed up behind her until she saw Negan and Max.

"Oh thank god." Max gasped and Negan hugged Mal tightly.

Jeremy saw the hoard of Runners come around the corner. "Aw shit, RUN!" He screamed, running with the others away from the Runners as fast as they could. Negan barred the door as soon as they entered, but it wouldn't hold for long. Sarah managed to crawl through the duct to the other side of the blocked gate and opened it for the others to continue. With luck, they all entered an armory filled with some weapons but they still had to get out or be eaten alive by Runners. They come to a building, sprinting up the wrecked stairs, climbing up one step and running to a some sort of gym locker. Negan tries to open the door then kicks it hard.

"Fuck, it's shut from the outside!"

The Queen's gaze fell upon an open window above the blocked door. "Here, boost Max up!" She said.

"Open it from the other side! C'mon Sarah You're not staying here." Farina said.

"What about you?" She asked worriedly.

"I'll be fine. Come on. Go." Farina boosted Sarah out the window, with Max on the other side and the group defend themselves of the Runners. Negan, Queen Arnica, Jeremy, and Rose fought at front with their melee weapons as Mal, Enid, Willow and Farina waste their shots on the Runners in the far back.

Finally Max and Sarah unblock the door. As they were outside, Mal shoves the door shut and moved the vending machine back into place blocking the door.

"Fresh Air." Farina gasped like the others.

"Look at this." Sarah said pointing to the wall. 'Warning: Infected inside DO NOT OPEN'

"Oh, are you fucking kidding me?" Negan scoffed, "Thanks for the warning on the other side, guys."


	25. Chapter 23

Mal sat on the steps, drinking all the fresh air and catching her breath. "Everyone alright?"

"I'm alright, just a bit winded." Jeremy replied. "I really need to exercise more."

Negan came over to them, inspecting Mal over carefully.

"How about you Mal?" Negan asked.

She smiled for his concern. "I'm fine. No bites."

She puts back her now empty gun in her holster when Negan holds the bat in front of her. "Here, take Ellie."

"Why?"

"Might need her if Simon the prick comes by. I do keep my promises."

She takes the bat, letting herself feel the weight of it and also the dominance of it. "You keep staring at her, she might want to bite your head off or have a full blow make out." He smirks and she shakes her head at his amusement.

"I already had kissed her, and that's only a one time thing."

The radio tower was in sight in the distance. For once they had a nice change of scenery, an old neighborhood that a few people would remember what things were before the outbreak. Now it's nature taking over, making an beautiful imagine and scenery of safety and a wilderness home. Mal thinks about what places like these were before the Black Night. Having a cut lawn with no overgrown in their whole street and house, a decent house where families are cooking outside and greeting to the neighbors a good morning. You ask her, it's a gimmick, all too fake and fruity to see herself living in one. As they continued through the neighborhood most of the houses had warning signs against looters, but it was just all talk now.

The group explored a couple of houses, searching for supplies while Max and Sarah play a little darts at least still having a good time. After a little water break they pressed on, they arrived at the Main Street, houses on the side and a big old one in the front. Coming closer into the street, a gun fires above their heads. They cover behind a row of stone walls. A sniper was in a distant house popped shots at the the band, all of which ducked behind the cars.

"Did you see where it came from?" Enid asked.

"Somewhere down the street," Negan said.

"Alright, I take the right and The Queen take the left and flank him, the rest of you stay here," Mal spoke.

"No." Negan argued. "If you're trying to play the badass hero up there, it won't work."

"Before you start, I need you guys to keep him busy. Me and the Queen will see if we can get a clear shot."

"Ok. Hey, be careful you two." Negan said, holding her arm before letting it go.

Mal took the right flank behind the houses while the Queen took the right. She quietly snuck through the back yards closer to the sniper's nest, just as she got closer, she heard a gun cock on her head.

"Well well well," The familiar voice spoke, "if it isn't Mal." Simon came around and faced her. His face is cut and bruised, his left eye covered in blood from the forehead cut, the silver hair mattered in dirt and sweat. He still had the dark brown mustache.

Mal tossing her gun and rolled the bat to the ground, holding her hands up.

"How are you doing girl?" Simon asked. Then he looked back at the distant gunfire and shouts.

"You're done. You and four people are fucking gone."

"Whoa, watch your language, Mal."

"You have nothing, Simon" Mal creeps up a smirk. "I did say to you how you will die, and it's the right opportunity. Your rapists filthy people are dead, your place is destroyed. You have nothing-"

The Claimer grabbed her from behind in a choke hold, hearing the snarl before clasping on his belt. Mal growled something truly inhuman.

Simon screamed as Mal butt her head against his before biting his arm. Simon became petrified, pulling himself on the wall while Mal took her mouth off, clocking his nose twice. Simon clawed at her face, punching her gut but made no affect on her but then picked her up, slamming her to the ground. The other man grunted with the effort of keeping her down, and suddenly his neck was within inches of her face. Within reach. Without thinking, Mal darted forward and sank her teeth into the flesh, grinding them together, feeling thick and gristly tissue give. The man gave a high, floating scream, blood bubbling out of his throat and pattering over Mal's face like rain. She pulled her head back, teeth still buried deep in the other man's throat, mouth filling with the hot, coppery tang of blood. Simon's throat tore like paper, the sound of it loud and hideous in Mal's ears. She kept pulling, kept tearing, until the man was nothing but a weight above her. She turned her head and spat out a sticky mouthful of blood and tissue, pushing the man off of her. She rolled onto her back and lay there for a moment, overcome by the adrenaline still screaming through her, het heart pounding against her ribs like it was trying to break free. She hears his gurgling, hands shaking around his blood squirting neck. She bends down to pick up Ellie, an inch off the ground as the top mending slightly drags the blades of the grass. At right below her, Simon stares at her in fear and she felt inside her gratitude before swinging the bat hard on his head.

She eventually focuses and sneaks up to the house as Negan and the rest are distracting the sniper. The sniper yelled in complaints, using terrible taunts while Mal enters through the back of the house. The doors were open wide from entering the kitchen, climbing up the creaking stairs, carefully watching of her footfalls. Upstairs she listens the loud fires of the rifle, the growls of the Claimer. Mal finds the room of the wood panels barricading the windows, the sniper Claimers loading a shell in the chamber. She lunges at him, slamming the bat directly in the head, blood splattered of his bowled head. She checks the scope out of the riddle trough the peaked window

"Oh, no." Mal muttered upon seeing that damn jeep coming up and fired its machine gun at the trapped group. They were trapped and Mal couldn't get a much clear shot at the driver or the gunner. It's then she found a way to get rid of that damned jeep once and for all. A Claimer mistakenly gets out of the top before Mal aims the Claimer's Molotov's, she breaths in slowly and held her breath, and-

 _Bang_!

The bullet zipped through the air and struck the head of the Molotov. It exploded on the Claimer and fell inside the jeep and shattered spewing flames throughout the interior, The driver bailed out sending the jeep to crash into the nearby house. The group seemed to breathe easily, from Mal point of view, seeing the Queen checking on the jeep before Negan waves at Mal with the hugest smile ever. They did it. They accomplished their battle; the Saviors, Bounty Hunters, Farina and Sarah have defeated the Claimers from the Ruins.

"Oh, shit!" Mal looked back at the scope as two Runners came up out of nowhere and tackled Farina and Sarah to the ground, Negan helped kill the one on Farina and Mal shot one off of Sarah. Suddenly the high screams roamed the streets; every place Runners came out, falling on the ground and coming towards the group. Mal took so much to take every Runner close to the group, cursing once from a miss but got the game back.

They all run to the house as the place is roamed by Runners. Mal decides to abandoned the sniper rifle but then thought about it. She ran back and detached the bipod module of the rifle and took the rifle with her. Finally she meets the group back who are passing through an open fence board and cross the field. Negan stood there until he finally see's Mal, and shit her mouth was covered in blood. "Been going down on a girl that's on her rag Mal?" Mal snarled and Negan laughed in delight.

"Simon."

"That's fuckin' good."

Across the field, they see to the Radio tower closer than seventy blocks. They are now safe.

-:-:-:-:-

The group helped themselves to a few cans of beans, peaches, and other canned foods all.

"Shut the hell up." Farina chuckled at Negan's discussion of the motorcycles.

"No, I'm serious. We have a ton of Harley Davidsons. Sometimes I want to drive it to the cross country.."

"Aw, man. I could die happy if I could just ride one around the block. What was it like?"

"It's like the best sex you ever had. You're free with the wind, and you see the beautiful shit when driving down." Negan explained, setting the empty can down.

"Good? Can you believe this guy?" Farina asked Max and he shook his head, chowing down his food. Negan asked Farina the choice of where to live. She never considered on living in a community again. He gave her the options of being with Queen Arnica or go back to the Sanctuary and work for him. He did wanted to ask if she wants to be his wife, yet he'd think back of everything she'd been through the Claimers and a strong woman like her, like Mal, she won't take none of his shit.

"So you work like it's a job? A career?" Farina said

"Everyone has equal share. Some are good and some are piss poor, but that was life. I do help the ones who can't do shit. Your choice, darlin'."

She nodded, and smiled generously. "Sanctuary it is. I know my people are all dead, so it's the only place to go. Especially for Sarah, she needs it."

Negan wondered if Mal is coming out. He asked Max and said Mal already ate and probably asleep. Entering the dark room, her face is light from the bright moon, glowing her soft features in her face and her eyes are more baby blue than ever. On the bright side, she wiped the blood off so she didn't look like a slasher. Negan couldn't hold back the smiled when Mal saw him and let him get closer to her, It was a tad sentimental, maybe, but every time Mal chose to be close to him, he could feel a warmth spreading through his chest, like Mal's presence ignited something in him.

"You alright?" Negan kept his voice low, careful not to disturb the sleeping people trying to get comfortable on the hard warehouse floor. When Mal didn't answer, he slid one hand over hers, pulling back when Mal winced. "Shit, sorry-"

Mal shook her head, scooting closer and pressing her shoulder to Negan's. "It's not that. Just finally feelin' it from when I punched Simon." Negan laughed quietly and took Mal's hand between his, more gently this time, holding it close to his face and running his thumb along the slim fingers. Mal's voice tended to get a bit softer when she talked to people one-on-one, he noticed. It was endearing, that warm-as-honey tone.

"Nothing's broken," He hummed. "You didn't answer my question, though. Are you alright?"

Mal flexed her fingers between Negan's hands, not pulling away. "If I'm bein' honest? No. But I know that's on me. That's my problem. Charlie, the Claimers are dead and I'm finally released, free. But I still feel it, like it's not simple to not get over my nightmares. I shouldn't be thinking about it, I know they're dead."

"You're scared." Negan stated simply, and he felt Mal tense against him, start to pull away like she thought Negan was mocking her. "Mal, I don't fucking- Jesus, you have every reason to be. I don't think less of you for it. Fuck, if anything, it's more impressive that you're willing to move on, knowing...knowing how you had to fight against that on your own. It'll take some time but you are such a strong woman."

"I hate bein' scared." Mal whispered the words like a sinner in confession, like they were a source of shame, a great burden on her shoulders. It made Negan want to play the priest and lift them.

"You're less scared than you were. You never would've done this-" He indicated where their hands were intertwined, "-when we met. You're getting better. This shit takes time."

"You've been helpin' me a lot," Mal murmured and squeezed his hand. "With this. It's not bothering me like it was. Not as badly, anyway. Thank you."

Negan nodded. "No fucking problem, Mal."

Before he was heading out the door, a warm hand squeezes his wrist. "Can you stay with me?"

"Uh, sure."

He was hoping for Mal to insist him on sleeping with her on the same bed, but he's afraid of intruding her comfort and would freak out about it. "I guess it's the chair. Those are a fuckin' torture chamber, I honestly say. Should use that to torture people for evidence-"

"No, I-I meant will you sleep with me?" Mal flushed, avoiding his gaze, and Negan knew what she meant. Moving over, Negan lays down, ruffling the pillow in a comfortable spot as he slowly wraps his arms around her shoulder. Mal moves in, her head on his arm, a tiny hand on her chest before drifting off to sleep by the warmth. Negan stared for the moment of Mal before dozing off to sleep.

-:-:-:-:-

"Hey, crazy day, huh? I never dealt with that before so, yeah. What you doing?"

Sarah sat on the table, busying herself on courting the food before giving an annoyed look. "Did Farina send you?"

"No. Just wanted to see you, that's all."

"How is it you're never scared?" Sarah asked.

"Who says that I'm not?" Max countered.

"What are you scared of?"

"Uhh, let's see. Spiders are pretty creepy." Max said, cringing when he remembers a huge hairy spider climbing on his leg. "Actually, being by myself. I'm scared ending up alone. I was alone when I lost a family that I barely remember. It was scary, I had no experience of surviving. Until Mal, Vix, and Lalon, Killeen, Johan, Rin, and AJ came along, I'm not as frightened anymore. So long I lost people and hated the loneliness, then I've been saved by Mal, I knew I won't happen again."

Sarah nodded. "I'm scared of what happens to people becoming infected. I wondered if they are trapped in their bodies and can't be released."

Max nodded. "The people in there are gone. They are not what they have been, it's all gone."

"Where have they gone?"

"Lalon said their spirits or souls moved on and if killing an Infected and Runner, you're releasing part of their souls."

Max grabs his backpack for the gift. "On the side note of this, here," he places the toy that Sarah wanted back in the store. "You can have it. Maybe hide it. Plus, the Sanctuary has tons of toys, books, and many more. You don't have to worry about Farina telling you you can't have it. Well, goodnight."

The door closes, Sarah would of been happy of Max's gift, but she can't even process her feelings for it. She's angry, sad, frustrated and scared all at the same time. She immediately throws the toy, angry of now having more time to play with it, to live in a nice community. Could she tell her sister and the group? How would they react? She doesn't want to know, she failed and is scared on what's to come.

She pulls up her pant leg to look down at the freshly bitten flesh on her ankle.

-:-:-:-:-

When Negan woke up the next morning, it was to the unfamiliar feeling of a warm body tangled up with his own. He opened his eyes and his breath caught in his throat as he gazed at the girl sleeping soundly in his arms.

For once, Mal looked peaceful as she slept; her face was relaxed and unworried, long lashes casting the barest shadows over the tops of her cheekbones. Locks of her hair fell over her forehead and into her face- it was still so long since she'd refused a short haircut. Negan was tempted to bring a hand up and rub the pad of his thumb over it, feel the coarse of soft skin under her jawline.

Mal was...well, she was fucking beautiful.

As it was, he simply settled back into the bed, pulling Mal closer to him and resting his chin atop the smaller girl's head. He felt Mal shift beside him and inwardly cursed himself- who knew if this was a one-time thing? Knowing Mal, she'd probably wake up, be flushed and embarrassed to find herself in Negan's arms, and then resolve to stay in his own room from now on once they get back. The thought made Negan ache terribly- it had been so long since he'd held someone like this, and now that he had it back, he realized just how much he missed it. All he wanted in the world right now was for Mal to stay curled up with him a little while longer, allow him to pretend that this was something that he could have all the time.

Mal made a soft, sleepy sound in her throat that Negan found unbelievably endearing, and her grip on Negan's back slipped and then tightened. Negan held his breath as Mal nuzzled further into his arms, pressing her face warmly against Negan's chest.

Negan waited for the other shoe to drop- for Mal to freeze up, to jerk away.

But none of that came. Instead, Mal muttered, "Mornin'," sleepily against Negan's chest, her lips lightly grazing his leather jacket, which he would of shiver if he slept shirtless.

 _An accident_ , Negan was sure.

Negan ran a cautious hand through Mal's long hair, working the tangles out of it with his fingers. "Good morning, baby. You sleep alright?"

"Hmm," Mal hummed, squirming closer like she was trying to steal Negan's body heat. Negan found he wouldn't have minded. "Yeah, I did. No nightmares," she raised her head, lifting up crystal blue eyes to meet Negan's own. "You always help with that. Don't know what it is. I just sleep better bein' around you."

Negan tried to keep his voice light so as not to betray just how much the words meant to him. "That right, baby? Shit, maybe you should sleep here every night then, huh?"

He'd meant it as a joke- one with a truly embarrassing amount of want and truth behind it, but he knew he could never outright ask Mal to stay. All he could do was offer.

"Mm," Mal murmured, "Maybe I will. If, ah. If that's alright." Negan sucked in a breath, eyes wide. He hadn't been expecting that. Mal's face closed off a little, her eyes clouding over. "I mean...I mean, I don't have to. Just. If you were offering-" Her face flushed, and Negan immediately jumped to her rescue.

"Of course I was offering!" He pulled Mal in closer, a subconscious act, but one that Mal didn't fight him on. "I want you here. Especially if it helps you. You can stay with me any damn night you please, Mal. Every night, if you'll have me."

Mal was grinning now, sweet and lazy. "Good." She stayed in Negan's arms, fingertips tracing easy lines down his spine. She scooted up on the bed a little more so that they were face to face, sharing one pillow, and Negan suddenly felt like breathing was no longer an option. "What do you mean, especially if it helps me?"

Negan blinked, confused. "I mean I'm happy to fucking help. I told you that before, Mal- anything you need."

Mal shook her head, brow furrowed. "No, I know that. I mean- the way you said it, sounded like you wanted me here either way."

Negan's heart stopped, and he kicked himself for the slip of tongue. "I just fucking- I mean, I don't mind if you-" He swallowed hard, unsure of how to talk his way out of this. "Just didn't fucking come out right, is all."

"Hm," Mal said, searching Negan's face. Those blue eyes suddenly felt like a spotlight, trained on him specifically to expose the feelings he was trying so hard to stuff under the rug. But...Mal was here. She was in Negan's arms, in the same bed, holding him close...

"Lets go out." With that, she was out the door with one last smile over her shoulder at Negan and he followed behind. The smell of breakfast overpowered their senses as they walked in seeing Farina cooking and Max sitting next to the camper stove.

"Damn that smells good." Negan yawned.

"Good morning," Farina said looking at Mal and Negan with curious eyes, a sly smirk implying Mal in 'you two slept in the same room' look. She simply glared at her and sat beside Max, taking his hat off and ruffling his hair.

"You sleep well?" She asked him.

"Yep. Did _you_?" He wiggled his eyebrows, glancing between Mal and Negan with suggestive looks.

She sighed through the nose, there's no way to ignore or argue about it. "Yes, I did. But your shipping bets will not happen."

"Whatever." He chuckle, and Mal laughs as well.

Negan stood by the window to see the Queen and her people guarding, and he turns back to see the little moment of Mal and Max. He gazed into her baby blue eyes, hearing her short but rememberable laugh. He wanted to hear her laugh actually, to see her smile become huge and beautiful as she is.

"Hey, where's Sarah?" Max asked Farina who was tending to the stew.

"I let her sleep in for once if you want her to join us, go wake her ass up," Farina smirked. Max nodded and stood to her feet and heads into the room.

"Hey, Sarah..."

Sarah stood in the middle of the room, her back facing to him, and her body is convulsing like if she was having a seizer. Her gasps are low and made a gasping hiccup, a bit of a hungry growl. "Sarah, are you-" She turns with glowing dead eyes.

"Sarah!" Max screamed.

Mal, Negan, and Farina jumped at the scream. Max came crashing through the door and falling down to the ground with Sarah on top of him, snapping at him and trying to claw at him.

"Shit she's turned!" Negan shouted. He gets to Mal's bag, trying to pull out his gun. He pulls the gun and he pushes back when a bullet shot the gun out of his hand.

"That's my fucking sister!" Farina cried, the barrel of her pistol still smoking, the growling of infected Sarah still trying to bite Max as he screamed in frustration.

"Screw it." Mal growled reaching into her holster.

Negan and Mal jumped, waiting if they've been shot, but they looked up to see Sarah fall to the ground, limped and lifeless.

Mal drove over to Max. "Max, are you alright?" Mal asked, searching for any bites or scratches in case.

"Uh-huh." He gasped and he sees Farina who is in complete shock and sorrow for the death of her little sister. "Oh, no."

"S-S-Sarah?" Farina voice croaked, and she couldn't hold back the sobs.

"Stay behind me," Negan tells them as he walks slowly towards Farina, hoping to reason with her.

"Farina..."

"Oh, Farina... w-what have you done?" She whispered to herself, still gripping her pistol with tears pouring down her face. "Oh God..."

Negan stepped closer with his hands up, "I'm just gonna get that gun away from you, okay?"

But Farina aimed her gun at Negan.

"Whoa, okay, okay, easy." He stops his steps. He needs to calm down the damaged Farina, but she was broken beyond repair.

"It's your fault!" She cried, growling at Negan.

"This is nobody's fault Farina."

"It's _all_ your fault!" She growled in anger, ready to squeeze the trigger. But she puts the gun under her chin.

"Farina...no!" Negan pleaded.

It was too late. She pulls the trigger.

Farina's head jerked back, blood and brain matter spewed out the back onto the wall's behind her, her hijab came off her head, showing the shinning, blood covered her silk black hair.

"Oh my God..."

-:-:-:-:-

Negan traveled themselves back a long walk to drop off Queen Arnica and her people. No one spoke when coming back; the Queen gave the Saviors a car for a grateful dedication, giving Negan a farewell.

Max sat in the back and sleeps as Negan enters the car and didn't start the engine. Negan was then the one to spoke first. "I understand what Farina did. I mean, it's a weak move, but some people can handle it. Hell, that was the only family she had."

"Did you ever... thought about it?"

"No," he said bluntly. "I tried, but freaked out when I tried to cut myself. If I did, Ellie would never forgive my sorry ass. I wanted too so I can be with her. I know she would of fucking hated me for not putting a fight. So I forget about it."

Mal reaches out, intertwining her fingers with his leather clad fingers. He smiled at the gesture.

"It's gonna be tough. Those families hearing the sorry shit. I- fuck, I hate it. But I have to tell them. I'll give them closure, make a week fortune of points for them, and have a funeral for them."

"I will join you as well."

He starts the engine, and he stares into her eyes. "Thanks, Mal."


	26. Chapter 24

A week passed after some devastating news, a funeral, and now heavy work duty he has to help the Saviors in. Negan was a couple hours into construction duty- building sturdy walls for the place where Mal and Alec said about the metal manufacturing, using it to cover the Infected walls and bullets- when Bud sidled up next to him while he was taking a quick water break. He was ready to tell the other man to fuck off, the words dancing on the tip of his tongue, but Bud spoke first.

"So you and Mal...you two playin' hide the sausage?"

Negan choked on his own laughter, practically dropping his water as he spluttered around a mouthful. "Are we fucking doing what?"

Bud coughed uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders. "You _know_. Uggin' bumplies. Buttering up her soft biscuit."

Negan found it very hard to no collapse into the dirt in a violent fit of laughter. As it was, he was doubled over, wheezing laughs escaping him and making the rest of the construction crew stare.

"Ho-ly shit! You just get right to the damn point, don't you? Fuck, you got any more of those? _The butter up biscuit_...shit, that's good stuff," Negan straightened up, wiping tears from the crinkling corners of his eyes. "To answer the damn question, though, one, that's none of your goddamn business, two she's seventeen, and _three_ , no, we're not." Negan's eyes flashed dangerously, "Would it be a fucking problem if we were?"

Bud looked surprised by this news. "I don't give half a redneck's hairy ass what y'all do in your spare time. I'm just askin' cause I got a bet goin' with Alec, Sheree, and the RK's."

Negan's jaw clenched. "Do _you_ now?"

"Don't get your knickers in a damn twist. We're not makin' fun. If it helps, we got a similar bet goin' about Alec and Lugh."

Negan laughed at that. Now that's a pair he could see. Alec and Lugh had stuck close since after the Shakespearian battle, and they have been going out in hunts together a or working in motorcycles together as well. He could see them so love struck or what Bud would actually say is hide the sausage or the two-man sword fight.

"So y'all really aren't fuckin'?"

"We're not, no. What the hell made you think we were?"

"Ya'll seem...awful close, is all. You're always hoverin' around her, and y'all... hold hands and shit. The other day, Rachael said she heard you call her baby girl a lot."

Negan blinked. He hadn't realized that other people had noticed the little touches between himself and Mal.

"Raises some questions," He caught the look on Negan's face, "Calm your tits. Nobody gives a flyin' fuck. Seems like a damn petty thing to worry about these days, I think. If anyone does give a rat's ass, not like they're gonna say anything about it. They know they'd get their asses handed to them by one or both of you."

"Good," Negan said. Bud squinted at him for a second.

"You want to though, don't you?"

Negan sighed deeply. "I want to what? Put an end to this fucking uncomfortable-ass conversation? Get back to work so people stop shooting us dirty looks?"

"You wanna play hide your sausage with her." Bud looked amused.

Negan sighed. "Are we really doing this right now? You really wanna have a conversation about who I may or may not want to stick my dick in?"

Bud shrugged, chuckling. "Got me there. Not really. Just wondering how likely it is that I'm gonna be winning this bet."

Negan reached for the the sledgehammer he'd set down a few minutes before and threw it over his shoulder. "Anything that happens between us is up to her, so I don't think there's going to be a whole fucking lot to talk about. If you're smart, you'll get the rest of your jerk off gang to drop the bet. And if you're really smart, you won't fucking mention this to anyone."

-:-:-:-:-

Mal got home before Negan did. She hadn't done much today- just patrolled the wall and asked around. The room sounds empty and quiet; Max was off with Clay on guarding, Rin and Johan are helping with garden in the greenhouse, Killeen with AJ in the daycare and a few other teenagers out on their jobs, and Lugh going out with Alec on a hunting trip. Mal had changed out of her uniform, changing into a comfortable shirt and jeans when a knock at the front door interrupted her.

She answered it, surprised to see Delaney, one of Negan's wives, standing there with her arms crossed, and Amber in the back. The woman didn't wait for an invitation, opting to walk right inside and into the foyer between the kitchen and living room. Mal stopped before she strolled in.

"What the hell do you want? And I didn't ask you to come in."

"You stay away from Negan," she barked in a whisper.

She frowned in confusion. What does she mean stay away?

"You heard me, us, bitch." She leans closer which Mal revolted back and stared at her. "He's always around you, we don't have time for him. You are not his wife. You are a slut-"

Mal slammed her hand on the wall, pushing Delaney back against the concrete hallway wall and Amber jumped from it. Now all the confidence in her is gone, Mal raised a smirk.

"You calling me a slut? Who's the one who's begging for Negan to fuck you. Negan does get tired of you girls, excuse me, girls who are like animals and can't stop."

She snarled and enjoyed the shoveled Delaney. "Go back to your rooms, forget this, and if you try to threaten me again, _I will_ fucking hurt you. Remember with Sarah before? This time, it's to the neck."

She lets go as Delaney scrambles to her feet, and both the rude sluts go back to their dorms.

Mal felt a little hurt, she can't know why. She heard many women convict her in hurtful words, but with her feelings with Negan, it did it. She does care for Negan, as... friends? Her mind is confusing her, telling her lots of doubt about of what she tells him about her feelings. Feelings as... friends. She doesn't know and may never know.

-:-:-:-:-

This is stupid, why did she agree to this. She felt needy when she knocks on his door. And the doors open before Mal could think of leaving.

"Mal? What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I was... just that- I wanted to hang out with you." She looked away, hoping he didn't see the faint blush creeping up her face.

"Yeah, fuck, sure. Come in."

She enters his familiar room. "You hungry? I know it's late but god knows how long you were out there running for. I'll cook up my favorite, spaghetti."

Once again Mal's body embarrassed her by letting out a loud grumble at the mention of food.

Negan laughed "I'll take that as a yes then."

"You don't have to-"

"Mal," Negan interrupted "You're hungry, I have food and you are a guest in my room. You don't have to protest everything. Now watch the master to help you learn how to cook food."

"Did Lalon told you that?"

"Mm-hmm."

Sitting down at the wooden table Mal felt a sense of belonging. Negan stirred the sauce pan, tasting it on the spoon. "Try it."

Hesitate, Mal takes a bite and her mouth exploded in the tasty flavors. "It's good."

He then drained the water, and placed a steaming plate of spaghetti in front of her, her stomach growled again at the smell of real food, he'd lived off stew and animal meals for far too long.

"Thanks." She mumbled as she shifted in her seat, surprised when Negan sat opposite her with his own plate.

"You better eat before it goes cold Mal. If there's on the thing I know how to cook then it's goddamn spaghetti, I guarantee it'll be the best thing you've ever had in your mouth."

 _Well it can't be the worst_ . Mal sardonically thought to herself. Picking up her fork she began making her way through the pasta. He really wasn't lying when he said it was good, all the flavors fused together creating the perfect dish, making her moan in the delicious meal. They ate together, quietly enjoying each other's company.

Mal was tempted to lick the plate clean as she finished the meal. Probably best she didn't make herself look too crazy in front of the man. Her eyes kept drifting on Negan's shirt, at least he's not wearing the same white one he has, it's black.

"Thanks Negan, it really was amazing."

Negan looked up from his own plate, smiling when he saw Mal's empty one. "Good. I'm glad. You want some more?"

"I'm good, thanks."

Watching Negan finish his meal had Mal wondering about the man. They knew a bit about each other yet there was a connection there stronger than any she'd ever had in her life. Guess two people with killer minds are alike, she jokes.

"Negan..." she started. Where was she going with this?

"Yeah?" Negan prompted after a few minutes of silence. He wiped his face with a napkin and waited for Mal to speak again.

"Where did you learn how to cook?" She chickened out of asking something more personal. She didn't even know what she wanted to know about him. She just wanted to know more.

"Ah. My grandma taught me when I was young. She had a traditional that all the women in our family get passed down the cooking trait. She made amazing food, like they were the fucking best food than any Gordon Ramsey food. I picked up loads of great tips from grandma in the impossible ways and taught me for Ellie to spice up the freaky deaky. She said nothing's sexier than a man who knows how to cook and clean."

"Sounds like things worked out for the best in your time."

"It didn't at the beginning but after in high school and meeting Ellie, it wasn't a bad life. Until shit hit the fan of a apocalypse coming in. I can't say I'm any worse off now."

"Even with a mess of a teenager in your room?"

"Mal you're not a goddamn mess and for the record this is the most company I've had since I got here so I'm not exactly a thriving member of society."

Mal let out a small laugh "That's because you terrify everyone."

"Not you." Negan pointed out.

"No. Not me." They looked at each other, both questioning exactly how they'd ended up where they were. Both silently thanking whatever God was up there that they had ended up there.

"What about you Mal? Any stories to tell?"

Mal shrugged. "You already heard half of my story. Not the greatest family; father is a murder and put there alive, dead, or infected, mother abandon me and I had a bad repetition as a rebel."

"Skipping class, dating bad boys, and reck people houses."

"Not like that. More like sneaking out the quarantine zone walls into the Ruins to experience my first kills on Infected. Maybe sometimes I spat on some soldiers."

Negan twirled his fork on the pasta. "If you were in my school at the time, I would of dated you, asked you out." He finishes his food.

Mal smiled. "And I would of rejected you. Especially a bad boy like yourself."

"I had a streak until seventeen I stopped. Had dressed in leather, and my hair was long to my shoulders. It was pretty in my dumbass eyes."

Mal couldn't stop the laugh that fell out of her. "Oh God, you are a bad boy. A lot of girls must of crushed on you."

Negan laughed with her, a deep throaty chuckle. "That's true, although I dated, it was nothing special. Then seeing Ellie, it changed. I know one time my biology teacher did had a crush on me before."

Mal could believe it. "A teacher? How old?"

"About twenty-eight. Yeah she's not quite been the same since her husband died. Just wish she'd express her grief in ways that don't involve grabbin' my ass."

Damn laughter bubbled up again.

Negan stood to clear the plates away. Mal joined him.

"You want some help washing these?" Mal asked

"Nah, just need to load the dishwasher, you go make yourself at home on the couches I'll be over in a minute."

Mal did as told, taking the same spot as earlier, right in the corner. She wondered what would happen now. It was past midnight; would Negan insist on taking her room?

Negan passed her as he headed to the other side of the couch, flopping down on it.

"Right so you think the kids need you?"

"My friends are watching them over. I can go back, I just... I don't really want too."

"Alright, you can crash here tonight. Lets watch a movie." Negan stood and headed over to his DVD shelf.

"A movie?" Mal looked confused.

"Yeah, a movie, you know one of those talking, moving pictures."

"Haha very funny. You wanna watch one with me?" She watched as Negan crouched down in front of the TV, shoving a DVD into the player. It'd been so long since she'd watched a movie with anyone, the last time was probably when she'd been hanging out with kids. Her mind recoiled as she remembered how annoyed she was with the same Disney songs.

Negan stood, remote in hand and flopped back onto the couch next to Mal, resting one had along the back.

"What movie are we watching?" Mal said shifting to get more comfortable.

"'Silence of the Lambs', absolute classic."

Mal never heard that movie. "My God, Mal. You never seen any horror movie or any movie that's not Disney."

"No one in the quarantine zone allowed to watch movies. My guardian only let us."

Negan scoffed, "Consider it a life lesson."

Mal let out a little laugh as she curled her legs under her, resting more against the armrest. She leaned her head on her arm and watched as the opening credits rolled across the screen.

She couldn't help but flick her eyes over to the man next time her as he watched the movie, it's like they were drawn to him. It was strange, seeing him so unguarded, he looked so normal. Not that he was brute at ordering or anything but it was like his physical appearance finally matched the image that Mal had of him in her head. He wasn't the hulking asshole that yelled and threw his bat on someone when he was pissed, he was just a guy that had taken the time to get to know her. She watched as the light from the screen flickered across his face, illuminating sharp features, the salt and pepper stubble that covered the lower half of his face, the slight smile that formed whenever a joke was made. It sent a warm tingle through her, butterflies fluttered around her stomach. She wanted to etch this moment into her brain forever, the peace that filled her, she hadn't felt so comfortable in such a long time. For a brief flicker of a moment, she felt safe.

Mal felt her eyes dropping they were getting heavier by the second, she tried to focus on the figures flitting across the screen but she couldn't help closing her eyes against the light. She felt her breathing deepen as she relaxed further into Negan by accident, lulled by the soft rhythm of Negan's breath. She didn't even notice as a blanket covered her and an arm wrapped around her shoulder.

-:-:-:-:-

She awoke to her pillow shifting around under her, disgruntled she wrapped her arm tighter around it, flinging a leg over to quell the movement so she could go back to sleep. She was shocked when her pillow let out a low chuckle, she blinked her eyes open and shifted her head back to take a better look at what she was resting on.

She could feel the blush burn at her face when she realised that it wasn't her pillow that she'd trapped under her it was Negan. Mal had her arm flung over his waist, fingers gripping at the soft material of his shirt, the shirt that looked slightly damp where her face had previously rested. She was mortified to think that she'd probably drooled on the man in her sleep.

"Shit, I'm sorry, thought you were my pillow." She said sheepishly. She knew she should probably remove herself from the man. At the very least take her leg off his lap but she couldn't find the energy to move, for the first time in days she was actually comfortable and her mind was protesting any idea that involved her removing herself from her current position.

"Nice! I clearly need to work out more if you think I'm squishy like a pillow."

Letting her mind win this one time, Mal returned her head to his chest, nuzzling back down into his warmth as she managed to get herself more comfortable.

"No...not squishy... just warm... s'nice." She could already feel sleep taking over again, the irresistible lure of peace and quiet winning out. She didn't hear the man's reply, just felt his chest vibrate under her ear as she let herself sink back to sleep.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal's body tensed as she awoke, all she could feel was the heaviness of the arm wrapped around her waist, the hand curling possessively over her hip. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out how she'd gotten back here. How was she back with Charlie and is alive? The hard body shifted against her, she squirmed back as much as she could in the grip that simply grew tighter as she moved, trapping her in. Her pulse raced, breathing became harder as panic set in, she couldn't be back there. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, not wanting to open them, opening them would make it real. She didn't want it to be real, she wanted to be with Negan, she begged her mind to let her stay with Negan longer in her imagination. The hand slid up her waist as her body shifted more, Mal didn't want to wait to see what it was going to do next.

" _Nononono_..." She murmured, pushing more forcefully against the chest, legs coming up to force herself away from the man. She felt herself move backwards, she was almost confused when the arm just slid away, she'd expected more of a protest. She knew it would come, she knew the man would never let her go that easily. She knew she was gonna get it, she'd be punished for this. Twisting quickly she crawled away, feeling a surprising softness under his palms as she scrambled along the floor until she hit a soft wall in front of her. She curled up as much as she could, hands clutching at her hair, trying to protect as much of her body as she could. Her body shook uncontrollably as she waited for the sharp sting of leather, she deserved it, she'd caused so much trouble.

"Mal? What's going on? Are you alright?"

She heard his voice in her head, Negan's voice, she wished he was here, where had he gone? Had she even been with Negan in the first place or had she made it up? Back to Charlie, alive? Tears slipped out as she started to question herself, she felt her grip on reality slip away, the tension in her mounted the longer she waited, why wasn't he doing anything? She wanted it over with, wanted him to do what he wanted so he could go back into her head, back to Negan. Her body jolted as a hand touched her, _nononono not that_ , she didn't want soft touches, not again. She pushed herself further into the wall, a soft whimper escaped her mouth. She wanted to fade away, wanted to not exist in that moment.

"Mal...please....it's Negan you're safe here it's alright I'm not gonna hurt you."

Her heart tore inside, Negan sounded so desperate, why was he still there? Why would her mind torment her like this? She sobbed, her head hurt so much.

"Shhhh Mal you're alright, I'm here, you're safe."

"But you're not here." She sobbed out. She wanted him to shut up, Negan couldn't be here now, even in her mind she didn't want him to see this.

"I am here Mal. C'mon look at me, just open your eyes, just for a moment."

"I can't."

"Yes you can, you can do this Mal. I'm right here, remember we watched the movie last night? Then you fell asleep right at the good bit. You're here with me in my room."

He sounded so real, his voice sending memories seeping back into her head. She remembered super, conversations, falling asleep on his warm chest. _Was that real_? She had to know. She slowly let go of her hair, tentatively raising her head so she could look out. She could just about make out Negan's face blurred by tears that were yet to fall from her eyes.

"Negan?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me."

He came closer, Mal could see his face more clearly, concern etched all over it. Shakily he raised his own hand, he watched as it reached out to brush his fingertips across her cheek. Her heart skipped a beat when it touched actual flesh, he was real. Relief flooded her. She's really was safe. She let out another sob, this time in relief, as she threw herself into Negan's arms, wrapping her own around his neck. She cried into it. She is safe.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry." Was all Mal could say. She truly was. She was sorry for being a fuck up. Sorry for literally crawling away from the man. Sorry that she couldn't do something as simple as wake up with someone without freaking out. Guilt made her sob harder even as soothing hands rubbed circles on her back.

"It's alright Mal. Shhh, it's alright." More soft words were muttered into her ear, reassurances whispered at her. Eventually she calmed, the tears dried on her cheeks, and she just relaxed against him. Breathing the man in, trying to embed him into her senses.

She kept her face buried, not quite ready to face him yet. She could feel Negan's face against hers, felt the slight scrape of stubble against her cheek as he nuzzled against her.

"I'm sorry." She said one more time.

"Mal, you've got absolutely nothing to be sorry for."

He was so kind. She really didn't deserve it. She sniffed again, and leaned back, she'd shifted onto the floor when she'd launched herself at the man. Now she was sat there, leaning back against the couch, trying to put herself back together again. She reached out a hand to grab Negan's, clutching it to remind himself that she wasn't alone this time. She didn't have to do this on her own anymore.

Eventually her breathing settled, she loosened her grip on Negan.

"You alright?" Negan asked.

"I think so, I'm sorry." She said again. Was she ever going to stop needing to apologize? Why couldn't he do normal things without having a meltdown?

"Mal, it's fine. It's normal, don't worry about it."

"It's not normal though is it? It's not normal to have flashbacks to being groped by a cowardice man who's dead!"

"Mal-"

" _Don't_. You don't need to answer that it's not fair. I just... I want to do normal things. I don't want every part of my life to be infected by this thing that's happened to me."

"It won't Mal, but it's gonna take time and I'll be here every step of the way."

"You sure you wanna be?"

Negan forced Mal to look at him.

"Yes I'm damn sure. You're not gettin' rid of me that easily, baby girl. I'm in it for the long haul. Good and bad. I'm here."

"You don't have to be."

"I know, but I want to be."

Mal didn't know what to say to that, she gave him a watery smile, swallowing hard against more tears. She'd done enough crying this day.

"You ready to get up?" Negan asked. "Cos I don't think my old man back can handle being on the floor for another minute."

Mal gave a brief laugh as she nodded. "Sure old man let's get up and sleep in your bed."

They helped each other up, both unsteady in their aching bodies. Mal noted the time as she stretched out. Her stomach plummeted as she realized what that meant.

"I mean- I can... go back. If-"

"Shit. If you want to, you can. But remember what I said, I'm there for you, especially you want to sleep."

"Yeah, you do make me better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I am such a bitch at Mal. Mal has been through enough. Yep, I'm still putting myself in the story and I wanted myself to a bitch in the story. Thought it was funny to put myself in the story and be one of Negan's wives, but in real life if this happened, nope. I would not be like this and I would actually hang out with Mal, being badass girls, fighting Infected together and rolling our eyes at stupidly dorky Negan. 
> 
> Anyway of me being a bitch in the story, my character self knows there is something between those two. And the Saviors are becoming suspicious on the leather jacket friends as well. The relationship is a trustful friendship.
> 
> You have to wait and continue on. Make your bets readers, you agree with Bud that there is a ship going on or not.


	27. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan was fucking thrilled to see Mal in the bar.
> 
> He sat on the stairs with his beer to see Mal and her friends chatting and laughing. He'd thought it would take a lot more to get Mal to give up her vigilant watch over their room for the night. He'd figured that it would take some cajoling and carefully constructed arguments as to why Mal shouldn't be worried about her kids' safety for a couple of hours so she could have fun. But no- Mal must have been feeling the burning need to get out of the room and let loose a little.

"Mal!" He beamed, a youthful giddiness in his eyes. "Let's go to the bar tonight."

Mal blinked, eyes darting between the Vix and Lugh then to Lalon in the doorway and catching the not-at-all-subtle conspiratorial look they exchanged. "What's going on?"

"C'mon guys, let's have an official party together!" Lalon broke in excitedly, "Everyone, expect Mal, can drink and there's lot of booze. A lot of tequila!" Lalon grinned at them, huge and proud, and Mal couldn't help but return it. In fact, she felt herself biting back on a laugh.

"You, uh. You already taste-tested it for us, Lalon?" Lugh teased, eyeing the barest flush to the younger man's cheeks. Lalon rocked back on his heels, a move that drew Mal's mind to Negan and his way of dipping and leaning when he talked.

"I may have had a little on the ride back, yeah," Lalon admitted without a trace of shame. "It was past five."

Mal and Vix both snorted with laughter at that. "No shame in that, Lalon boy," Vix said. "So what do you say, Mal? I think it's a good time to take a break. Have some fun, and Negan and Alec will be there."

"I guess we can go. I'm in." Lugh agreed.

Mal shifted from foot to foot. On one hand, it did sound like a hell of a time- and it would be nice to unwind with her friends all together. She'd seen plenty of them over the last couple weeks of being here, of course, but they were rarely all together at once. The only thing was- "What about the kids?" she asked. "AJ's asleep, and the kids can't come."

Vix shrugged. "Sounds like you just answered your own question, Mal. The kids are old enough to stay here and watch AJ." Mal's discomfort must have shown on her face, because Vix reached out, squeezing her arm where she held it in a gesture of comfort. "Mal, you know that nothing's going to happen. It's not that late, plenty of people are still up. You can let yourself go for a few hours."

Mal looked at Vix's imploring face, and then to Lalon's eager one. _Just a few hours_ , she told herself. _I can give myself a few hours. I can let go for that long._

"Sure," she agreed. "Why not."

-:-:-:-:-

Negan was fucking _thrilled_ to see Mal in the bar.

He sat on the stairs with his beer to see Mal and her friends chatting and laughing. He'd thought it would take a lot more to get Mal to give up her vigilant watch over their room for the night. He'd figured that it would take some cajoling and carefully constructed arguments as to why Mal shouldn't be worried about her kids' safety for a couple of hours so she could have fun. But no- Mal must have been feeling the burning need to get out of the room and let loose a little.

Some of the others were already there when they came in- Bud and a few people played up stage for a bit, playing the classic rock Negan loved, and didn't want to join in because of watching Mal. Lalon kept brining more drinks for them and drank, Mal took a sprite. Lugh went over to Alec, sitting close together on the far end of the couch, shoulders bumping as Lugh sipped honey-colored liquid from short glasses- and chat about themselves on work and their days; both their heads lowered down in shyness. To Negan's surprise, Vix jumped in excitement and dragged Mal into the middle of the floor, and they started dancing. He grinned up at them when he saw Mal dancing, swaying her hips back and forth to the beat.

"Hey, Negan. Glad Mal, Vix, Lugh, and Lalon came this evening." Sheree passed glasses over to Negan. "We don't have much in the way to dilute it, unfortunately, so it's basically just straight shots tonight unless you want it on the rocks. I told Lalon to keep an eye out for margarita mix when he goes out next." She grinned and handed them their glasses, and Negan knocked his back quickly, relishing the warm burn the alcohol left behind. "So, anything interesting you're seeing?"

"Hmm... what?"

She chuckled. "You so like her. Your eyes are in a trance."

"Are we fuckin' in high school, Sheree? Fuck you."

"Okay, big man. But it's OK if you do. Just maybe be weird for a old man falling for a young girl."

"I would be in jail." He gets up over to Mal who sits alone in the stool table. "Your friends ditched ya."

"Lugh is talking with Alec, Lalon getting hammered, and Vix is, as usual, flirting."

Negan takes a sip of his beer before standing up. "I see you're a bit uncomfortable with this crowd. Wanna fucking crash to my place?"

"Can we go to mine?"

Negan couldn't hold the huge smile spread over his face. "Yeah, sure baby girl."

-:-:-:-:-

After Mal snuck Negan into her room to help Mal and even hang out more. Mal and Negan were on the couch going through boxes for the RK's going into different rooms since the room is a bit crowded. Negan went for one of the packages

"What the shit?" he whispered, pulling the flaps of the box back.

"What?"

"Oh Mal fucking serial killer. You sir, _are_ a naughty girl."

"What?" Mal asked again, this time a little more flustered.

Negan held up the contents of the package. Mal's mouth fell open and she immediately tried to grab it out of his hand. Negan jerked it back out of reach.

"Give that to me, Negan!" Mal ordered.

"You hold your horses there, pretty girl." Negan started reading the description from the box. "Pussy Call Pussy Bender. Blast your pussy with major vibrations.

"Negan, stop." Mal was hiding and hyperventilating behind her hands. Damn Lalon and his idea on her and Negan together.

_Please stop._

_Please stop._

_Please just fucking stop!_

"Give your pussy the business with these vibrating beads. Made from soft and flexible silicone, the beads slide in up to seven inches deep for serious satisfaction. Press a button on the handle to shake your pussy with three mind-blowing speeds of vibration."

When he stopped reading, Mal peeked out between his fingers with one eye. She wondered if it was possible to actually die of embarrassment.

Yeah. Negan was staring at her. Tongue between his lips and teeth.

"Oh God," Mal groaned. She pulled her shirt up over her head to hide her face. "Goddamn it, Lalon."

"So," Negan said, examining the toy through its package, "You uh... you ever given your pussy cat the business before? Looks really inter-"

Mal rolled off the couch and made a mad dash for the bathroom. Negan was laughing hysterically as he watched her bolt down the hallway, nearly tripping over her own feet.

As soon as it was closed, Mal was sliding down to the floor with her back against the door, her head in hrr hands. Of all things that could have been in that package, it had to be a sex toy, and in front of Negan, of all people.

Mal spent about an hour, hiding in the bathroom, wallowing in her humiliation before making a reappearance in the living room.

" _There_ you are," Negan said. "Thought you might've crawled out the fuckin' window or something. I put your little play-pretty in the drawer. Hid it underneath your drawer. I wonder where Lalon found these."

Mal was relieved, somewhat. At least Negan didn't have it anymore. He sat down and hoped for silence regarding the matter. "But I kept the catalog." Negan said, in a singsong voice, waving it in the air. He was shaking with silent laughter. Feet stomping and a hand slapping against her thigh.

Mal looked up with a scornful glare.

Negan ignored it and moved over closer to Mal. He held up the sex toy catalog and opened it to random page.

"What do you recommend, Mal?" he asked, as if he were ordering from a restaurant menu.

Mal was still glaring.

"C'mon, Blue Eyes," Negan elbowed her arm. "You must know what works and what doesn't. Give me some fuckin' pointers here."

Mal tried to rip it out of his hand, but once again, Negan was faster.

Negan gasped. "What about this? Deep Throat Pocket Pal blowjob simulator. Got one of those? Damn. I need one of those myself."

No response.

"Please tell me you have this! Earth Quaker anal vibe. Extra long shaft goes deeper than ever to test your abilities. Do you have one, Mal?" He kept nudging her with his elbow. " _Do ya?_ Do ya? Huh?"

"What are you, fifteen?" Mal said, finally. "I don't own everything in the damn catalog and probably not there anymore, Negan. Just some joke Lalon pulled out for Lugh then passed it on to me." Mal managed to snatch the catalog out of Negan's hands and jumped up from the couch only to have Negan catch her by the waist and pull her down across his lap, cradling her.

"Hey, motherfucker," Negan said, giggling. "I was looking at that."

Mal folded the catalog and shoved it up under her shirt, wrapping her arm around herself.

"I swear to God, Mal, I will tickle you if you don't hand it over. _Do not_ force my hand."

Mal offered a challenging smirk. "Hate to break it to ya, but I'm not ticklish."

"Is that so?" Negan questioned, with a shit-eating grin.

He dropped his hand down beside Mal's bare feet, tapping against the top of one. Without warning, he zipped his fingernail up the sole of her foot. Mal's entire leg jerked in response.

"What was that?" Negan asked. "Thought you weren't ticklish."

"That was just a reflex," Mal offered.

"Oh!" Negan said. "A reflex. Is that what it-"

He abruptly released a full-fledged assault against the bottom of Mal's feet, leaving Mal kicking and squirming under the grip on his legs. "Give up?" Negan asked.

Mal took a second to catch her breath. "No. Fuck you."

"Oh!" Negan whooped. "You are a badass."

Mal tightened her hug across her chest, letting Negan know she most certainly did not intend on giving up the catalog she had tucked away.

"You are so gonna regret crossing me in a minute," Negan said through a Cheshire grin. "Yes you are."

Negan slowly walked his fingers up one of Mal's jean bottom-clad legs, stopping at her thigh.

"Last chance, baby girl."

"Do what you gotta do," Mal said. "You're not getting this back."

He slid his hand in between Mal's thighs and squeezed. Negan felt Mal's backside clench against his leg. He squeezed again. And again. And again. Faster and faster until Mal was wiggling and kicking against his hold.

"Timeout!" Mal cried. "I need to pee."

"Oh _ho_ no!" Negan laughed. "There are no timeouts in war, sweetheart. Give me- the fuckin' catalog."

Negan went to Mal's stomach where he delivered a merciless invasion of fingers. Mal was laughing so hard, the only noises coming from her were wheezing sounds. She had tears seeping from the edges of her tightly squeezed eyes.

She was out of breath. "Stop- I really- need- to pee."

Mal wiggled free after accidentally elbowing Negan in the stomach. He recovered quickly and attempted to grab Mal by the leg, pulling on her ankle down and tripping her. She rolled over on her back. She was trying to pull away when Negan grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms above her head.

Mal laughed. "What are you gonna do now? You have to let go off my wrist to get the catalog."

A purely devilish smile broke out across Negan's face. "You wanna lay a fuckin' bet on that, baby?"

He dipped his head down to Mal's stomach and nosed his way under her t-shirt. Mal tightened her stomach muscles and sucked in a quick breath feeling the warm air and scruff against her flesh. Negan laughed deep in his throat when he pulled his winnings out with his teeth. He slung his head and tossed the catalog off to the side.

"You cheated." Mal whined.

Negan huffed. "This was a no-holds-barred match, baby. The fuckin' rules are thrown out the goddamn window."

 _You think they are just friends_? Mal thought. She can't understand her feelings towards him, and what he also feels. _Is it right for us? Maybe it is._

Mal swallowed and licked her lips. Negan watched her and licked his own out of reflex. Their eyes locked. Mal hadn't noticed the green and brown colors that mingled together perfectly in Negan's eyes. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Negan leaned in, touching his forehead against Mal's.

"Those damn blue eyes."

His lips hovered above Mal's. Their heated, heavy breaths colliding.

"What's going on?"

"Max!" Mal gasped.

"Goddammit, kid," Negan whispered.

Mal pushed Negan off enough to slide out from under him. She stood up and quickly adjusted her shirt.

"We... we were just- I'm going to the bathroom now. Get out, Negan." Mal tried and she did want to take a piss and shower. Negan then left as Mal closed the door, thinking on how close they were. She can't even see Negan see her like this; beautiful, someone to like. She snaps out of it.

When he padded into the kitchen, Mal still wasn't back from the bathroom, and Max is scrambling up a pan of powdered eggs to snack on. Negan awkwardly started gathering up the salt and pepper when Max spoke into the pan.

"So you and Mal, then?"

Negan rubbed at his hair, added some pepper to the cooking eggs. "It's not what you think. Not what it looked like."

Max looked up at him then, eyebrows raised high. "I find that kinda hard to believe."

Negan frowned and handed him the salt. "Well, believe it. Because it's true."

"So why were you sharing a bed?"

Negan swallowed his pride. "I've been fucking lonely, alright, kid? I've seen some shit out there, real bad shit. I have trouble sleeping. Helps to have somebody there." The first part was true, at least. Having Mal there this morning made him realize just how lonely he'd been all those years on his own. Hell, how lonely he'd been since Ellie passed away, even.

Max scrutinized him, eyes narrowed. "You know I don't care if you're- together, right? It doesn't bother me and... I know that we wouldn't want her to be alone forever."

"Well, _we're not_ together," Negan muttered. "Stir those fuckin' eggs. They're gonna turn into a damn omelet."

Max stirred, breaking up the larger clumps that had already cooked. "Sure looked like you were together to me."

Negan sighed. "Doesn't matter what it looked like. Only matters what it is. I don't think Mal's interested in somethin' like that."

Max gave Negan a strange look. "Like what? Because you're way older? Because if that's what's stopping you, you're pretty fucking stupid."

Negan's eyes narrowed. "Watch your fucking language. She'll have a fucking stroke if she hears you talking like that. And then she'll kick my ass right outta hear for teaching it to you."

Max rolled his eyes and started doling out eggs onto plates. "I'm thirteen, Negan. Not four. You're not the first person who's sworn in front of me. And she won't kick you out. She likes you. I told you that before."

"Not like that, kid." Negan said.

Max took a forkful of egg. "Whatever you say. But you're wrong."

At that moment, Mal descended the door and takes a seat to eat her food before bedtime. "Smells like eggs," She hummed happily, "The kids sleeping?"

"Yeah. Don't worry, I got the monitor for AJ."

Negan watched as Mal eats her eggs, his mind a mess of confused thoughts. He knew he shouldn't be contemplating Max's words, but he couldn't help it. He kept wondering what would have happened if Max is right- would he have snapped and kissed Mal in the bed? He didn't think so, not without the other girl's permission. He'd wanted to so badly, but that was a huge line to cross. They'd both been so close, though. If he'd leaned in a little closer, made the offer... would Mal have shoved him away, disgusted? Or would he have moved closer, melted into it, pressed their lips together...

He wanted Max to be right. Oh, god, did he want Max to be right.

-:-:-:-:-

Sarah holds onto Dwayne for dear life. Dwayne moans into the kiss while he's running his fingers through her soft white hair and caressing her perfect ass, the pressure on her lower back causes Sarah to pull back.

"D... Dwayne we... We can't keep sneaking around like this anymore."

Dwight merely shushes his ex-wife, going in for another kiss only to have Sarah pull away once more. "No, Dwayne, st... Stop! I'm being serious! You don't understand, if he catches us... If any one sees us he'll-"

Dwight cuts her off, not giving her enough time to pull away this time he captures her lips in his own. This time, it's his turn to pull back, rubbing the side of her face, staring into her eyes.

"I think I might have a plan to get the three of us out of here, to go to our deal with White Bear, but..." Dwayne trails off, already being doubtful of his own ambitions. What he had in mind was awful but, he knew that it might just be the only way he could safely get the woman he loved as far away from Negan as possible.

"Dwayne?" Sarah's honey like voice gains his attention. For a moment he only stares at her, as if he was attempting to remember every small detail of her face.

"I... Sarah, I have an idea, a way that we might be able to distract Negan. I'm not going to lie to you, I don't think I could even if I tried. It's awful, it's just about the worst thing I've ever thought of, but it's the only way. We almost had a going to Charlie and taking those kids to the KillGames, but he hasn't gave a chance for us to escape. I need your help. Damn it, if this is going to work we-"

She places her finger on his lips, settling him, she smiles. "Dwayne, whatever it is, I'm with you, till the end."


	28. Chapter 26

"It'll be fine."

Sarah shakes her head, not comprehending on what Dwayne ordered her to do. It's murder, she can't accept this. "B-But-"

"Listen to me hun, since she's been here she won't be accepted as a Savior after. Negan's basically has her held prisoner up in that room." He doesn't know the truth; sometimes he seen Mal going to his room, laughing like he isn't an monster. He needed Sarah to be tricked and do the unspeakable.

She whimpers. "Dw- I- what you're asking me to do... what's Negan going to do when he finds out?"

He throws his arms in the air. "Exactly. You were his favorite way back then, don't you remember the pain you went through? What he did to you? What he said was your job to go through because you were his favorite?"

Her shoulder tremble. "Well, now Negan has a new favorite." Her eyes go wide, she starts to cry. Dwayne smiles, lifting her chin so that he could see her face better. "Baby, you and I both know what's going to happen to that girl, the second Negan decides that kid is his to do whatever he wants with, you know what kinda pain she's going to go through once Negan realizes we're gone, it's-"

Making her way into the storage area Sarah's breath catches in her throat, inward she curses Dwayne. The events that took place only a few moments ago, now feel like it's been an eternity.

"Why do I have to be the one to do this? Why can't you!?"

Dwayne sighs, grabbing the women by the forearms, gaining her full attention. "Because I'm already on thin ice for being a suspect!" The blonde man offers his ex a small smile before placing a kiss on her forehead, "It'll be quick, just go in grab it and come out, it'll be easy."

She rolls her eyes very annoyed. "It'll be easy. Easy my fucking ass." She mocks Dwayne, rolling her eyes at the man's poor choice of words, while doing so, her foot catches on a discarded box of tissues that had fallen from a higher shelf, she falls landing with the grace of a chicken attempting to fly off a steep cliff.

She groans, tasting copper, a warm scarlet drop falls down her chin, "Shit my fucking lip." Sherry's legs buckle under her attempting to stand up, thankfully nothing had been broken. Dwayne who had heard the crash does nothing to help, he merely stays at his post "guarding" the storage unit. She glances over her shoulder a couple of times before letting out a sigh of relief, she skims the shelves finding what she's looking for. Taking the box from the shelf, being careful not to allow any of its contents touch her skin.

"I got it!" Sarah's sudden voice causes Dwayne to jump.

"Don't just sneak up on me like that!" He sighs, "I told you to knock before you came out in case someone was passing by, what if you had been seen!?" She flinches, she hated it when Dwayne yelled at her. It's a reason their relationship hasn't lasted long, Negan never yells at her but she rather go.

Shaking his head, Dwayne sighs again. "Did ya get it?" She smiles patting the tube shaped profile lining her jacket pocket.

"Got it right here D." He smirks.

"Perfect, now comes the hard part."

-:-:-:-:-

Her eyes shot open, flinching slightly under the bright morning sun that radiated heat through the small window. It was weird, there was no panic, no gasping breaths, no thudding heart that almost hurt. Just a delightful ache that accompanied a good night of sleep, a soft puff of air against the back of her neck that didn't make her skin crawl. A burst of joyous laughter escaped her, unable to help the outburst with all the happiness bubbling through her.

"Mmm, w-what's with all the noise?" Negan's sleep-filled voice drawled in her ear.

Mal turned, looking at the sleepy face next to hers, she'd call it adorable but she really didn't wanna get her ass kicked. "I'm ok!"

"That's great Mal, now lemme sleep."

"No no, it's not just great it's amazing. I'm ok! I got some sleep." She sounded like an idiot but she really didn't care.

An indulgent smile crossed Negan's face. "You're too damn cute sometimes. I'm glad you got some sleep, now can I get back to mine?"

Mal just beamed back at him, glowing with the little victory. It was everything. It wasn't a cure but it was hope, if she could do it once she could do it again.

"M'not gonna get anymore sleep am I?"

"Probably not. Plus you have to work."

"Already then, see you later then." He gets up to change into his clothes and his leather jacket after he grabs Ellie with him.

"You too. Now I'm going back to sleep."

"Why you little shit." He drops Ellie on the couch and attacks her with tickles, pushing her on his bed. She screams in laughter. Negan's loves her laugh, earning him a huge smile to see a girl with so much loss and pain now in full joy. She really was damn irresistible, Mal bit her lip covering her own grin.

"See you in a bit."

Arriving exiting the door, he bumps into Sarah. Negan raises a brow, wondering why she is here with a tray. "Hey sweetie, what are you up to? I thought you were in ya room?"

He glances up and down at his... wife. His chest felt a bit aching when he mentions wife. She technical isn't his wife, just a good fuck. He spots the glass in her hand, he chuckles as she explains herself.

"I'm sorry Negan, I wasn't thinking straight earlier, I guess." She bats her eyes at him before smirking. "I was just heading up to give that girl a drink. Just to congrats for her to be a Savior and she needs it."

He knew some of his wives talked about Mal that are not very nice, but Sarah knows if crossing Mal it won't be nice. But he rather not have Mal be rash upon his wives or anyone.

"Well don't let little ol' me stop ya darling. Get to it." Negan smacks the women on the ass, the glass in her hands jostles but nothing spills out. She gives Negan a half smile before heading up.

Glancing over her shoulder, she sighs, shuddering slightly once she's alone in the dim hall. Taking a deep breath, she opens it.

"This is it, no going back, just gotta give the little-" Sarah shuts her mutters to pause at the sight of the small girl. She remember the first time she met Mal; she was angry at Dwayne, Sarah and her sister taking Mal's vehicle away before threatening. Then when she meets her again, she had the eyes of someone a kid would never seen, death and murder, and she almost beat up Sarah to escape. Now, Mal looked like a little angel laying there, her face snuggled into the blanket, her hair just barley hiding his face. She's looks like a baby, so innocent. She can't do this.

Sarah turns to leave when a small whimper from the sleeping teen gains her attention. She tosses over on her side, her hair slipping of her shoulder, revealing small scars on her back shoulder.

Was this... Negan? She thinks. She knows he wouldn't hurt her, but he can be aggressive.

She was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, her shoulders trembling in the same manner they had before, small tears roll down her face, taking a deep breath she sets the glass down on the night stand.

"I'm so sorry." Turning to leave another small sound from Mal interrupts her exit once more. "Who is it?" Mal blinks several times before opening her eyes, Sarah's heart skips a beat. She puts on her best fake smile.

"H...Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?"

Mal growled, quickly throwing on her jacket to cover herself. "I'm fine. Exactly what are you doing here? In my room? If you're here to discuss or complain about your stupid needs, just don't."

"I just wanted to give you a drink."

Mal didn't know how to respond. _Why on earth would this woman be friendly_? The only wife that Mal actually trusts and likes is Catherine. She wasn't a needy woman to let Negan fuck them senseless, she needed points only and choice this, and is what she said to Mal friends with benefits from Negan.

Taking the glass of milk, she drinks it. "Why do you care?"

"You are one of us now. I know we have our differences but we can work it out."

She suddenly makes a b-line out of the room. She scoffs. The drinks tasted funny, and she didn't like it at all. Changing into her comfortable clothes and her jacket, she heads into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Before spitting out the sink, the water washing out light red liquid down the drain.

Raising her head, her nose is bleeding.

She never had a nose bleed in her life. Titling up an holding her nose, she stops it for a second than bleeds again. Looking at any first-aids kits in his drawers or bathroom she found none. Soon her stomach churred in pain. What has Sarah given her?

Making a dash to the infirmary, a tissue of her nose, blowing out mucus and blood she hears two people talking in a loud whisper tone.

"Can it, Dwayne. I didn't want to do it. She's only seventeen, a baby."

Sarah begins to cry, hiding her face in her hands. Dwayne tries to hold her but gets a smack across the face where his burnt face is. "That's even worse than stealing those children to the KillGames for Charlie. All of this is sick.

He growls, pushing her against the wall. "Sarah for the love of god, keep your fucking voice down! Don't you think I realize that? Don't you think I know what we've done is wrong. And yes, I did it but with White Bear, we are free. Yes, Mal's young, but news flash. She is not a kid. She is a monster, no more."

Before Mal comes to attack them, she coughs violently loud to make the two turn their heads. Dwayne finds Mal leaning on the wall and pulling her hand her palm is covered in her own blood. She walks and suddenly drops to the ground, clutching at her stomach.

"Shit."

"What do we do, Dwayne?"

Mal goes to speak, but the moment she opens her mouth, drops of blood fall from her lips.

"Leave her. It'll give us time."

"But-"

"Fuck her. She's Negan's problem now."

The two left, Mal screamed intently.

She is going to find them and kill them for what they had done to her. Crawling out to the hall, she tries to screams but spats out more blood, gasping for any air in her lungs. The pain increases and stops to lay on the floor to take a break. She hates seeing her own blood again, to see how so weak she is now, can't even call for help or fight herself back up.

"Mal!"

A voice raised her head. Alec and Lugh charge after her. "What happened?" Lugh asks as Alec carefully picks up Mal.

"Poisoned... Dwayne... Sarah involved... KillG-" she spats more blood.

"We have to get her to the doctor now. Report Negan and your friends now."

Lugh runs to find them.

-:-:-:-:-

Lalon puts his hands on Negan before he snaps at him, Lalon puts his hands up defensively. "Negan relax, Mal's going to be just fine, She's lucky they caught this in time."

"I want to know who the fuck did this to her. What in the fucking shit happened? And I want to her be fine."

He hated for leaving, guilt and anger mixed upon his emotions. His first instinct was to find the fuckers involved of this.

Finally for several minutes- more like a fucking hour Negan snarled- Doctor Mike comes out. "After some tests, we found that in addition to her epistaxis. We also found that she as hematuria and slight flank pain."

"What does fuck that mean?" Alec said, everyone titled their heads to understand the doctor.

"There was blood in her urine and pain in her side along the kidney area to add to her bloody nose and bleeding gums."

Negan nods. "Okay. So what?" Vix asked.

He continues. "Well, after putting all these notes together, I came to the conclusion, of the glass of milk Mal was given by Sarah." He holds the glass up to the light. Negan makes a face, seeing small patches of left over white wet powder stuck to the inside, along the base that hadn't dissolved.

"Sir, I'm so sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but sadly, you have a traitor in your company. She was poisoned."

Negan's breathing escalates to near hyperventilating, everyone was watching Negan's body language, the man was beyond pissed.

"How the fuck did this happen!? What the fucking fuck!" Negan punches the wall.

"Mal said Dwayne and Sarah did this," Lugh replies. "They were evolved with the stealing of kids to the KillGames, and they wanted to escape to a man named a White Bear."

"Fucking hell." He grips Ellie, straightens the bat towards his face, and by an instant barks commands. "Get Zoe on the walkie, tell her to find those pricks, and have Molly on fucking lockdown. And you RK's, stay with Mal and the doctor in case. Oook, the fuck are you going to about to Mal!?"

"We have no way of knowing how much anticoagulant rodenticides she's been given without being able to question that ones that gave it to her. Judging by her condition, however, we can safely assume the dose was very small, so we've administered fifteen to thirty milliliters of Ipecac syrup." He had to reframe his words again to the angry Negan. "We'll be doing it again in about a half an hour, if vomiting isn't induced by then. It's to flush his system of anything she's been given today." He adds, "She'll appear to get sicker before she gets better, but she should be fine."

Negan nods, his whole body was trembling again.

"So, she's going to be puking her guts out now?" Lalon said, worried for Mal to go through this.

"Well, the alternative was laxatives, but we decided it was better not to let the poison digest into her system any further. We've placed her on the bathroom floor, leaning on the wall between the bowl and the tub, so... she has her options of one or the other..."

"Oh, God Mal." Vix whimpers, shaking her head. "How are we going to tell the kids? Negan?"

He fumed in fury, blood boiled in her body, his grip isn't getting loose. He is ready to kill every person that hurts Mal.

"Wait for Mal while me and dick-brigade are gonna find those assholes."

-:-:-:-:-

Thankfully, the Ipecac had helped to expel most of the toxins from her body, slowly but surely she regained her motor skills and her vision. Mal gasps almost struggling to breathe, her throat burns and her lungs had become sore from the excessive vomiting.

She whines looking around for someone that could hopefully help relieve the pain, now more than ever she wished she had one of those pain killers or at least Negan's comforting hands to hold her. Slumping on the wall and leaning over, Mal is able to see out into her bedroom, seeing Lalon by the door.

It's then that she spots the patch in on the floor, her own blood stained on the carpet. "Oh God-" She vomits, shoving her face on the toilet, puking so much out of her stomach.

Another sigh escapes her lips, her mind drifting back to the vengeance of Dwayne and Sarah, imagines on how she will do it. Retching one last time she jolts when the toilet suddenly flushes. She hadn't heard Lalon come in.

He offers a sympathetic smile. "Holy moly, that crap really did a number on, didn't it?"

Mal whines. "I don't want to talk about it." He gently runs his hand through her hair, feeling guilty for his friend to be in pain, again.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, I've got to see if your mouth is still gushing blood."

While speaking, Lalon carefully pours some much needed mouth wash into a small cup before offering it to the frail teen. She smiles back crookedly before accepting it, she swishes the mint-like liquid around before spitting it into the bowl. Lalon flushes it for her again before carefully bending down to pick his friend up, but to his surprise, Mal puts her hand out and stops him.

"I... Please don't move me right now." Mal issues another whimper in protest, making Lalon withdraw his hands.

"Alright, alright, I'll let ya sit for a little longer." He smiles "Just open your mouth for me, please?"

He looks at her gum. "I might not be a doctor but you're not bleeding.

"Do the kids know?"

"Vix is mentioning this but not alarming them too much. Negan and everyone is going as fast to find them."

She sighs. "I hope Negan finds them."

"I do too. Not only for what they did, kidnapping kids off to slaughter but do try and kill you."

"I should of known it was them. The moment I met them at first I should of-"

"Hey," he scouts closer to Mal, a gentle caring hand rubs on her leather-clad shoulder. "It's not your fault. The blame is them, don't doubt yourself."

She cranks a smile. "When did you become so wise Lalon?"

"Well, I am a wisecracker." He laughs as she follows as well, loving the affection of her friend.

-:-:-:-:-

By the time of many hours passed, she stopped puking. The pills helped her, still a bit of cramps in the stomach but she got all the poison out of her stomach, kidney, and urine. Lalon stayed for her trough the whole bit. Sometimes he had to look away to try not gag which made her laugh at him. He then leaves to tell the kids, Lugh, and Vix when Negan comes on. She smiled to see him come over, and he wasn't terribly mad.

He strides over to Mal. "You okay?" His eyes are worried, a painful face made Mal hold his hand to reassure Negan.

"I'm fine. Better than before. Still have cramps but not too painful."

"Good. We found them."

"You did?" That was fast, Mal considered.

"They didn't go too far. Caught them crossing the bridge. Dumb fucks on not taking any of our vehicles, then it would of be a hassle to find them."

"What did they say about White Bear? Who is he?" She said.

"A new Bounty Hunter, claiming lands around a couple miles away from the Eleven Town, Fairview. Let's just say they weren't a chatty bunch."

"Now what happens?"

"I had a long talk, and I made a decision that one will have the death penalty." Negan gets up to sit on a chair across her room, places his hands behind his head, leaning back in his seat in a very relaxed fashion. He smirks looking to Mal, expecting a chuckle or a nod, but she just stares at him dumb founded. "Excuse me?"

"Well I've been thinking-"

"One dies? Sure Dwayne got Sarah to poison me, but both are involved!"

Negan puts his hands up defensively in an attempt to settle Mal, not wanting to get her worked up. "There's no reason to get upset over this, you'll still get to pick who dies"

"Then I pick all of them."

"Mal you can't have all, just one-"

"Why?"

"I know you're upset, you're in pain and you want to the ones that did that to you to suffer. I get that, I really do, but what you need to get is you learning about killing. We kill to punish, not for fun. That's what we are, we're the Saviors."

Mal scoffs, being so patronizing towards Negan. "I can't do that if he kills off his entire work force. You need to understand Mal, we kill to punish and even losing two people in these times is a lot fucking worse. People are valuable for a community, for our system."

Mal stares down at Mal. "So you kill a whole community of people for rape but not for trying to kill one of your wives just to save me?"

"I don't give a shit if you pick my wife, my ex-wife to be fair!"

"Yet you don't have the fucking guts to kill them all."

"Hey!" Negan's tone was both stern and threatening. "You watch it, you of all people know I'm not that kind of a person I'm not a bad guy I just-"

"No, you're not bad, just morally crippled."

Acting on sheer impulse alone, Negan jumps out of his seat and yells. "Alright that's enough!" Quickly realizing what he was about to do, Negan stops himself.

He jesters over to pick up Ellie, gritting his teeth to let loose his anger. "You have to make your choice, and it better be the right fucking one. You dick around in front of my men with that 'both' bullshit, and I swear I'll make you wish you've hadn't said a word."

Mal frowns looking at the desk where one of the kid's gun is. "I already did."

Negan pauses, his hand on the door knob. He doesn't look back at Mal, he doesn't apologies, he just sighs one last time and leaves slamming the door behind him, leaving Mal alone for a moment before she goes with him.

She comes over to the main rooms. A few of the command Saviors stand, and the two betrayers didn't make it far to where they were going. Dwayne and Sarah are both on their knees, badly beaten and bloody. Mal see's Negan ignoring the assaults on Sarah's face so she was grateful he didn't as much care for a traitor.

He sneers ear to ear when his presence is announced. Negan smirks, taunting the couple, an old memory of Mal is brought back when she first met him. Only it's not as terrifying to her.

"Well, well, well, lookie here boys, look what the cat dragged in. So, you were the pricks who killed our kids. Not cool. That's some fuck up shit you did there, Dwayne. Twice I tell ya."

Dwayne sits up tall, speaking with a clear voice. "We came back to make a deal with someone else. I didn't want to do it by Charlie's orders but-" Negan drives the toe of his boot into the man's gut, causing him to slam back on the floor.

He's grab and dragged back next to his woman who struggles to keep her self together. Negan cackles. "A deal? A _fucking_ -" He kicks him again this time, stomping on his rib cage when he goes down "-deal? You taken half the children here by two times to the KillGames, told the Claimers where Sanctuary is and let Mal be taken, and you poison Mal as you run off with my ex-wife to make a deal with a man named White Bear?"

He chuckles when Sarah bawls her eyes out, the makeup ruined her face. Negan huffs walking closer to Dwayne. He twirls Ellie around he uses the blunt handle to bash his nose in, effectively breaks it, blood gushes like a facet. He stomps on the man's right knee cap this time, digging his heel in after until a sickening crunch echoes off the walls. Dwayne screams in agony as it becomes too much for Sarah to handle.

"P... Please Negan! _Stop this_! I can give you something, just please stop."

He stalks over to her and kneels down to the women's eye level. Sucking his teeth to question her. "Who's White Bear?"

Sarah flinches. "Some Bounty Hunter, fairly new. He gave us so much ration dollars. He... does work on s-something. I don't know what he's planning for his community."

Negan smacks her before standing.

"You don't fucking know? You deal with this man you don't know with this half-ass information and you don't even know what he really is and what he's doing? Involving something about the KillGames? The KillGames are dead, and Dwayne does it three times and it questions me if White Bear is doing something that I'm not fucking agreeing to this fuck show."

Once glance at Mal, he flicks a finger to walk her over here. Walking up he didn't register to look at her.

Dwayne locks eyes with Sarah, her tears never stop. "Pick one." That same threatening look from before returns.

Mal was not hesitated in answering.

"Sarah."

It was over as soon as it begun. Blow after blow, Negan didn't stop until Sarah was nothing more than a mushy pile of head pudding on the concrete floor. The woman's blood mixes on her once sun-bleached hair the bat had chunks of flesh and hair in the chains. Dwayne sat on him knees inconsolable, sobbing out his lover. Negan pants as he finished with the dead body of Sarah, being almost out of breath before chuckling.

"Alright, people get this mess cleaned up and throw this bitch in a nice dark roo-"

 _Bang_!

The loud gun fire echoes off the stone walls, nearly every one jumps in their shoes. Before Negan realized what was going on, Dwayne laid on the floor. A bullet hole now cratered between his eyes.

And there stood Mal holding the gun that she took from the desk.

"What the shit?!"


	29. Chapter 27

Mal sat in the dark room before the incident of Negan ordering his men to drag her back here. She sat there, seeing the dark only. She hates how Negan doesn't understand her tactics. She's doing for what is right. Sure, it's actually vengeance, she won't lie that she simply enjoyed it, however, you kill to protect people and yourself.

The doors opens, Negan stood with a monotone face, eyes in fury and poised in a threatening structure, and Ellie is on his shoulder as he is ready to take a swing. "You stupid kid. You really fucking cross the line Mal." He grips Ellie, letting his arm loose and twirls the bat around. "I could kill you right now. But I'm a Savior so you're going to the Eleven Town, Fairview. Investigate on some business in there, rumors are spread on the KillGames being reopened and Bounty Hunter involved are in town. Your friends and the kids can come with you, but you will not and ever come back to the Sanctuary or you'll wish I'd killed you the first day we met."

Mal wanted to boil in her anger, she increased her pacing in an attempt to stop herself taking it out on Negan. "Are you kidding me? I did it for-"

"Bullshit! It's not how our community works. You always make your own plan and ideas of what our system should be. It doesn't work like that."

"Oh yeah cos that would've helped so much." Mal said sarcastically, standing up to Negan.

"Why are you gettin' pissy with me?" Negan was getting just as angry with him, his voice getting louder in the room.

"I'm not pissy maybe I'm just sick of you babying me."

"I'm not babying you." Negan spat out.

"Yes you are. I can handle jobs. I've been in the same pace as you. I try to do everything for Sanctuary. For what's right for the community. I'm put so much for you and the others." She shouted at him, she'd stopped pacing, now the two of them were standing opposite one another. Electricity sparked between them as they let their anger out on each other.

"Oh yeah cos that's been workin' so well for you."

Mal flinched back like she'd been slapped, she steeled herself under Negan's anger, not willing to be the one to back down. She needed this, the release.

"You don't get to fucking say that to me. I've been dealing with this shit for years. I'm the one that's had to put up with Charlie's groping hands, and seedy comments. I'm the one that had to deal with being whipped every time I dared to say something out of line. I'm the one who has to be the one to take care of the group while I had to bend over whenever he fucking wanted me to. So you don't get a say in it, you don't get to decide how I handle this shit."

"I'm not trying to decide anything for you Mal but you can't fucking expect me to let you make the rules. This is what a community does, and you better fuckin' grow up now." He gritted out, trying to get a grip on his own anger, slamming Ellie above her head to the wall, and she didn't flinch. She wanted to hurt him, punish Negan for not stepping up more, for not being the guy he is from what she had seen.

"I thought I did know about you but maybe I was wrong."

"Yeah well I _know_ I was wrong about you, at least I've never hidden shit from you." That was one step too far. Negan knew it before he'd even let the words fall from his mouth. The hurt look on Mal's face was enough to stop himself saying anything else. They both stood panting in the room, both realizing that they'd let this get too far. Negan watched the hurt look melt into guilt on Mal's face before she turned sharply said to Negan.

"Fuck you, Negan. _Fuck you_."

And she turned sharply and stormed off to her room.

-:-:-:-:-

A silent knock disrupts Negan on his moody aggression. He practically ignored the first few until the door was actually unlocked and opened. He whips his head to threaten the poor bastard coming him to piss the fuck off, but the poor bastard is the pretty Vix.

"Vix?" He said in shell shock.

"Hi, Negan." Her voice is silky and soft as she approaches him. "I came here to give some reasoning."

Before she could explain his expressions turn sour and grunted under his breath. "She needs to deal with her punishment-"

"I know she has to fix this on her own, Negan," she interrupts him, giving intense stares that were soft and yet fierce. "You two have been close in the couple of months, and I see her looking up to you. She knows what she has done and I hope you will see that for her. Please, consider on being respectful to her." She hands out a radio to him. He doesn't accepts it so she puts it down on his table. Giving more reassurance, she reaches for his gloves leather hand and squeezes, glancing up with desperate hope. "I didn't tell this to Mal, you have access to hear her and Alec speak to one another. She doesn't know you are hearing this. I'm giving it to you to understand this and sometime you forgive her and yourself and talk. I hope you give yourself to her, Negan."

Negan was silent for the past minutes, deep in thought that Vix can't tell from his aggressive angry carved in his face. He suddenly looks at Vix with soft hazel eyes, knowing that she made him think on the right decision between the loyalty of their partnership and relationship.

"I'll consider it for now," he mumbled.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal threw her clothes aggressively in her duffle bag, anger eliminating any pain that the movement caused. She wasn't angry with Negan, she was pissed at herself for getting that mad with him. It was incredibly unfair, she shouldn't have expected Negan to be the same, it didn't mean he was a bad person. It was what she'd been expecting, she didn't know why it was such a surprise to her that Negan would change when he knew. She stopped in her steps, taking a deep breath she tried to calm herself. She was being selfish, she knew it. Negan had every right to be pissed at her, she had hidden things from the man and did it for vengeance. He'd been so open about his past with Mal, he'd answered every question Mal had asked never hesitating. Mal, on the other hand, had never really told him anything about her own life. Guilt stabbed at her again, she shouldn't have been that harsh on him. She sat down on the bed, head in hands, as shame filled her. She'd fucked up again. Possibly ruined one of the best things that had ever happened to her.

A small knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, she turned to look at Alec, guilt swelling again at the sad look on his face.

"It's time to go," Alec said. "We'll drive then walk. Your friends are coming as well."

She stood there in silence, zipping up her bag before walking over to Alec. "Look, he's not wrong but he shouldn't be a dick to you, Mal."

"I don't want to talk about him."

"Here." He hands a radio to her. "Vix suggested it to me. If you're uncomfortable in staying in the town, call me or Bud or Rachael, maybe Negan. It's private so it's you and one of us."

"Thanks." Mal said, shifting further to Alec. Mal could feel the light heat as their arms brushed each other. She found herself leaning into the comfort of having Alec by her side and he wraps his arms around her.

"I'll try to knock some sense into the asshole." She rolled her eyes.

"Maybe kick his ass," she said with a pissy tone.

After she heads out into the front entrance her friends waited out by the truck. The kids glared at Mal; she did oblige to their anger. She made mistakes and is paying the price.

The gates open to the path into the forest, out to one of the Eleven Towns called Fairview. She heard stories of Negan dealing with a man who's the mayor named Gregory. A few Bounty Hunters make their trades and supplies to the town. Negan gave her an order, that's her payments. She has to investigate the town of something strange, about the KillGames. It struck her when she heard that name again.

_How many more of them are there?_

Alec starts the engine, and Mal gets in the back to see them going further away of the Sanctuary. The peak of the towers are appearing over the thick gates before she spots Negan by the watch guards.

She's sad of Negan not looking at her, back facing her and saluting the middle finger. It carved a big hateful pain into her heart, stinging as Sanctuary became smaller and farther away. Why she almost- ever- feel for the jackass? Her breathes become shallow, eyes starting to tear up. No, she can't be weak and be emotional on how he yelled at her, kicked her out, and how she is at fault of this. Yet, that knife piercing the heart never left the ride.

As she's far away from the Sanctuary, the forest swallowing the community where Mal can't see it anymore, Negan looks back, hoping she does see him being forgiving on her leave and she is not looking at him so he just watches her go and may not return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the angst. Hurts doesn't it? If I hurt or anger you, I did an alright job.


	30. Part 3: Hard Days and Troubles

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

_There, in the thick of a_ **_seething mass_ ** _of Infected- an army that numbered uncountable thousands- stood a tall figure with hair so faded by it's dark brown hair, bits of white in the tips, tall with broad shoulders. It was too far away to see his eyes, But Mal was sure- dead certain- that one would be_ **_brown_ ** _and the other as_ **_red as flame_ ** _._

_The figure stared right at her. It was smiling._

_Mal had_ **_seen_ ** _it._

**_Seen him_ ** _._

_"No...," she whispered to herself. "_ **_No_ ** _."_

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~


	31. Chapter 28

They walked for miles under the hot sun. Sam was quiet for most of the trip, but as his feet are sore and stomach started to rumble, he turned cranky.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"We should of taken a horse."

"We'll stop soon for a lunch."

"We can't stop."

"I know you really want to see Mal. I do too, but we can't have ourselves beaten down and exhausted.

The roads Tom picked were narrow and often turned from asphalt to gravel to dirt.

"We haven't seen a infected in a couple of hours," Sam said. "How come they stick close to home. Some do unless they merge into a herd but I heard people saying some are close to him:"

Tom took a couple of minutes on that. "There are lots of theories, but that's all we have- just theories. Some folks say that the dead lack the intelligence to think that there's anywhere other than where they're standing. If nothing attracts them or draws, they'll just stay right where they are."

"But they need to hunt, don't they?"

"'Need' is a tricky word. Most experts agree that the dead will attack and kill, but it's not been established that they actually hunt. Hunting implies need, and we don't know that the dead _need_ to do anything."

They created a hill and looked down a dirt road to where an old gas station say beneath a wrapping willow.

A moan stopped their tracks and Tom went in.

"What are you doing?"

"Saying hello."

A grey skinned man shuffled slowly around the corner of the building. He wore a flannel shirt stained with dark blotches and a garland of fresh flowers around his neck and ribs. The man's eyes were missing, and the sockets gaped emptily. The moaning mouth was toothless, the lip and cheeks sunken in. Worst of all, as the Infected raised its hands toward them, Sam saw that all of its fingers had been clipped off at the primary knuckles.

Sam gagged and stepped back, his muscles tensed to turn and run, but Tom put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. A moment later the door to the gas station opened, and a pair of sleet-eyed young women came outside, followed by a slightly older man with a long, brown beard. They were all thin and dressed in tunics that looked like they had been made from old bed sheets. Each wire a thick garland of flowers.

"Leave him be!" Cried the youngest, a black girl in her late teens, as she ran across the dirt to the dead man and stood between him and Sam and Tom, her feet planted, her arms spread to shield the Infected.

Tom raised his hand. "Peace, little sister. No one's here to do harm."

The bearded man fished eyeglasses from a picket beneath his tunic, and squinted through dirty lenses.

"Tom...?" He said. "Is that you?"

"Hey, Brother David." He puts his hand on Sam's shoulder. "This is Sam."

"What are you doing here?"

"Passing through," said Tom. "Going to the Sanctuary to find an old friend of ours."

Brother David scratches his beard. "I see." He then bent toward Sam. "Tell me, young brother, do you come here bringing hurt and harm to the Children of God?"

"Um... no?"

"Do you bring hurt and harm to the Children Of Lazarus?"

"I don't know who they are, mister."

Brother David turned toward the women, who were using gentle pushes to steer the Infected back around the far side of the building. "Old Roger there is one of Lazarus's Children."

"He's a Inf-"

Tom made a noise to stop him.

A tolerant smile flickered over Brother David's face. "We don't use that word little brother."

"Sorry."

"The name comes from Lazarus of Bethany, a man who was raised from the dead by Jesus."

"Yeah, I remember a church who has that."

The mention of church brightened Brother David's smile. "You believe in God?" he asked hopefully.

"I guess..."

"In these times, that's better than most." He threw a covert wink at Tom. "Old Roger is only one of the Children we found who have been tortured like that. You can see them all over this country. Men and women with their eyes cut out, their teeth pulled, or jaws shot away. Most of them missing fingers of whole hands. And I won't talk about some of the other things I've seen done. Stuff you're too young to know about, little brother."

"I'm seventeen," said Sam.

"Who's doing all this stuff you're talking about?" Tom asked.

"Bounty Hunters," said the redhead.

"Killers," said the black girl. "A man named White Bear is claiming the country."

"Who's he?"

"Some guy that survived the first KillGames. He's claiming these lands, collecting the Eleven Towns rations and joining Bounty Hunters to the rebuilt KillGames, so to speak."

"I thought the KillGames was burned down. Twice from Mal's card." Said Tom.

"Not every one were killed off."

The faces of the monk and the two women fell into sickness. "You can stay to dinner." Brother David said stiffly. "God requires mercy and sharing from all of His children."

Tom puts his hand on the monk's shoulder. "We're moving on now. And I thank you for your offer of a meal. But we've got miles to go."

The black girl smiled and placed her hands on either side of Sam's face. "May God protect your heart out here in the world." With that she kissed him on the forehead and walked away, Sister Shanti followed Sister Suzanna.

Brother David shifted to stand in Tom's path. "Brother," he said. "I hope you find what you're looking for. I've met Sister Mal and her fellow companions before. She wasn't quite the believer."

"Thank you for that. At least I know you've seen her."

Brother David nodded his thanks. "God go with you and before you and within you."

They shook hands, and Tom and Sam stepped back into the dirt road.

Back in the road, Sam felt relieved to hear Brother David actually met Mal. He laughed that he wasn't the only one who thought the monks were a bit crazy. He can imagine Mal giving the one eyebrow raise and almost insuring to Brother David.

"Sam." Tom cried and pushed Sam back. Sam stared up at the Infected rolling down the steep tall grass, completely tumbling over and coming at them. Tom takes out two knives and stabs two Infected swift. Sam takes out a hatchet and let his arm swing to the big guy with scraped and cuts all over its bloody face.

More kept coming down so Tom pushed Sam and himself back into the forest. The Infected followed as Sam struggles when he hits a Infected woman skull. The ax gets stuck into her cranium. Sam panicked, pulling as hard as he can.

But as he's about to use his foot to push the dead off, Sam whirled and looked into the pale, dark-eyed, half face, and black blood-smeared face of the Infected.

With a snarl of insatiable hunger, the Infected lunged for Sam's throat.

-:-:-:-:-

The RK's, the kids, and Alec drove through the ride in silence. Everyone wanted to talk to Mal but she sat in the back, unfazed. She takes very deep breathes to calm herself to not cry in front of her friends. In front of a man who treated her this. In a way she doesn't know if she could blame him or herself, probably both. Most likely herself.

One moment, they were speeding down the road, and then in a single, brief second, their day took a turn for the worse when Alec plowed straight into a Runner that rolled down the hill and ran in front of them.

Not just one, either. A whole goddamned herd of them, suddenly swarming the narrow street like ants on spilled ice cream. The initial crash was jarring, a sudden spatter of discolored gore on the car's windshield, and then it didn't stop.

"Fuck!" He yelped, alarm tinting his voice as he continued to ram down on the gas pedal, bowling through undead bodies and weaving around those that he could avoid. She could hear Johan tense, short breaths from beside her, could imagine the uneasy look on his and everyone's faces as he kept driving. The whole truck shook with each hit, jolting them all as the windows were painted over with a sickly reddish-brown. Even more alarming was the windshield, which was all but coated in gore. Mal could have closed her eyes and it wouldn't have made a lick of difference- Alec's visibility was next to zero, and the jarring slams indicating that they were hitting the undead didn't stop coming.

"They must of chased down something on the other side?" Mal called over the noise of impact and growling.

"Circle back, they must have gotten away." Vix ordered, and Alec whipped the truck around, turning on the luckily still functioning windshield wipers to wipe away the worst of the muck. Unfortunately, no further than a few hundred yards down the road, the car began to sputter, and then died completely.

"Fuck, fuck-" Alec jumped out after Mal and everyone to assess the damage. The RK's covered them as Infected draw themselves towards the bloody truck. Lalon twirls, swing, thrust, and plunges into the Infected, Lugh throwing and slicing his ax, Johan and Vix using their bows then arrows when the Infected are so close to them, and Max and Killeen used their melee weapons as Rin covered AJ in her jacket and defended herself with a bat. With the team work, half of the Infected is slowing down now, but they didn't stop from coming and rolling down the hill.

Mal and Alec quickly look over the truck... and they were screwed. The vents in the front of the truck were jammed full of flesh and bone, whole arms wedged into gaps in the metal. "It's not gonna fucking start again-"

Suddenly a scream came from inside the forest.

"We have to help them!" Max yelled suddenly, and they turned in unison to see why: Max knew you shouldn't risk someone's life. A teeming mass of snarling, stumbling bodies was making their way toward them. To make matters worse, Mal was about to tell Max before he spat back at Mal. "We're Saviors. We have to help!" And without a look back, he took off into the woods, leaving the them in his dust. Vix, Johan, Rin, and Killeen immediately began to sprint after him.

"Max!" Mal shouted.

Alec snatched the crossbow, shooting one between its black eyes before retrieving it and reloading before turning to Mal and nodding, following her lead into the tree line.

Max had disappeared from sight, but Killeen was still close by, leading the way with his pipe drawn as they wove through sunlight trees. Some of the herd had spilled out into the forest and were now growling at their heels as they ran. Mal whirled, shooting a few close ones down with deadly precision. They stumbled into a relatively clear path, only to be surrounded by the dead seconds later. Lugh swung his ax down on skull after rotted skull, the metal ax now sporting a heavy layer of decaying flesh. It happened fast, before Mal could even realize it- one moment, she lost Negan, and then she was alone, backing up as she cracked heads and stumbling further into the woods.

 _Where did they go_ -

And then she heard it, a faint but definitively human shout in the distance. She see's her group killing off Infected, helping a lean figure and a tall but thin man. Thankful for the protection of her jacket of hitting one by her elbow and ran toward the commotion of them pointing at the lean boy and the curly hair man.

 _This is what happens, Max. I told you so_ -

Everyone had their weapons at each other, yelling a commotion on who they are, where you come from, and so on. Mal pushed her way through the crowd to see the two people. Mal suddenly felt herself stop breathing, her thoughts imploded of seeing the lost and familiar face that she thought she would never see forever.

Tom lowers his gun, his face and body froze in shock.

"M-Mal?" He said softly.

"Tom? Is that you?"

It was like he broke after that, Mal watched him walk towards her, tears springing up in his own eyes. She has Tom back, alive and old than ever, back to everything it was.

"Oh, Mal. I never thought I would see you again." He couldn't stop smiling through thick sobs. Mal's heart broke for him, for the two of them, for the relationship that had been lost and separated for so long, now they are reunited. She rushed over to Tom wrapping herself in his arms. They hug each other, clutching at one another as they tried to mend their comfort.

"Wow, Mal."

She lets go to see her old friend Sam Morgan. He's much taller than her, before she was the tallest back then. He looks mature, hair still rumpled but is longer, and he has those green hazel eyes that charm and make Mal be sweet to Sam.

"Sam." She said.

"Mal. Look at this, I'm taller than you. Ha!"

She chuckles. "Indeed you are, but I doubt you're tougher than me."

"Okay, sorry to break your bubble, Mal," Lalon said. "But are they Sam and Tom you've told us before?"

"Yes, they are. These are my friends and kids. This is Vix, Lugh, Lalon, Max, Killeen, Johan, Rin, AJ, and-"

"You know me, Tom." Alec shakes hand with Tom. Tom pats his hand on Alec's shoulder.

"That I do." He inspects everyone, smiling of how Mal found friends and took care of these kids at such a young age. He was proud to see she'd learn from Tom when he took care of Mal, Sam, and other kids back in the quarantine zone. He wished to experience Mal growing up to be the beautiful woman she now is.

"I can't believe you've done this. I'm proud of you."

She appreciates his gesture.

"Better take you guys to Fairview." Said Alec.

"Wait? You're coming with us?" Sam questioned.

With the mention by Sam, Mal didn't have the time to explain about the terrible experience and day that happened. "Let's just say we are investigating a problem in Fairview." Vix answered. "The Saviors and Negan somewhat send us to see what your problems are and solve it."

Tom nods. "Yeah, we have a few. Mostly about the KillGames rebuilding."

Everyone's face pales. "You know what they are." Tom asks and they replied a sad nod.

"Why couldn't this end?" Said Johan.

"Better report this to Negan." Alec said. "We need to figure out if it's true and quickly find where it is now."

"Let's get back. You guys have a truck or you walked?"

Mal and Alec shook their heads. "We're walking now." He replied.

-:-:-:-:-

Everyone told their stories about each other, but Tom, Sam, and Mal didn't explain to each other on what happened to them after Lucius ambushed them. Mal never felt happy to see an old face. She did had a couple of familiar faces, often they ran away then stay awhile. She couldn't expect herself to ever see them again, she anticipated them as dead or Runners roaming alone.

"I'll be back. I just...I just need a minute, before we go." Tom and Alec nodded, and Mal stepped away, off the side of the road and into the trees. She wanted to make sure Fairview is what people say it is. She didn't want to take the chance. She walked a short way, eyes searching for somewhere she could- perfect!

A small, dilapidated house stood out from the trees, junk piled in in the shambling front yard- grimy children's toys, kitchenware, broken furniture. She made a mental note of the area, which direction she came from, and pulled out a small handgun from her pocket.

 _Just in case_ , she assured herself.

She tucked the gun away inside a mostly-intact bender, sealing the lid over it before heading back to the group.

It was another hour before they rolled up to the front gate of Fairview, one of the Eleven Towns. Mal had taken the lead a while back, and stopped in front of a solid metal wall- tall, sturdy, reinforced.

Mal listens. She thought back to the Tradepost- the eerie quiet that had seeped from its walls. No signs of life, because they aren't much people since Charlie and the Calvary Boys gone.

And then she heard it. Faint, but unmistakable. Laughter, the delighted cries of...of children. Mal's throat felt thick as she stared at the walls in front of her, a sudden, hopeful flash worming its way into her heart.

Kids. Other kids. This place... this place sounds excellent for any family. No wonder people come to live here. She felt Alec's hand covering hers.

"You ready, Mal?"

Mal nodded and taking AJ into her arms when Rin handed him off to her. She clutched him a bit tighter as the gate was opened, and the RK's cautiously made their way inside.

Lalon whistled, long and low as the gate was pulled closed behind them. "OMG. This place is magnificent," He breathed, impressed. Mal seen a good look at the pictures, but this hadn't at all been what she was expecting. This was no ramshackle camp- it was a upscale neighborhood, perfectly preserved. Huge houses that probably had probably cost people an arm and a leg in the old world, nice lawns and trees nicely spaced between street corners. It was the kind of place before the Black Night came. The irony of it, that she would only get to live in a place this nice at the end of the goddamn world, almost made her laugh.

The man who had opened the gate for them- a wiry guy who looked to be in his twenties, eyed their weapons warily. "Before we go any further, you need to give us your weapons. You want to say, you hand them over."

The response was instantaneous, a collective tension falling over the group, and Mal stepped forward, her gun in her hand even as she cradled AJ tightly in her arms. It stayed by her side, and she knew that if anything went sideways, it would be up in an instant.

Thankfully, Tom waved the other man down. "It's alright, Nicholas. We brought some Saviors. Negan send us some people to come over. I can vouch for them. They're fine."

"Well, Savior or not, they should speak to Gregory first, anyway."

"Who's Gregory?" Vix called from the back of the group.

"He's our mayor in this town. I suppose you'd say. He knows everything you'd want to know about this place." Nicholas answered, turning to face an uneasy Mal. "Miss, why don't you start?"


	32. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The RK's exploring Fairview- one of the Eleven Towns and Mal catches up with her old family she never thought she would see again.

Mal scuffed the heel of her boot impatiently against the wood of Mayor Gregory's front porch as she waited for her turn to be interviewed by Fairview's mayor. The kids, Lugh, Lalon had already come and gone, and Vix, being first, had explained what would happen. Gregory would record them, ask them questions about their lives, how they'd gotten here, the things they'd done. Ridiculously, Mal felt like when Charlie interviewed her. She knew he and the place is trouble, and she will never make that mistake again.

After Vix had come out and given her approval, they'd been asked to hand over their weapons. "Just within the walls, we have an armory. They'll be kept there, you'll be more than welcome to them whenever you go beyond the wall." Sam promised. Mal felt like a damn child, clinging tightly to the colts handle as the others unloaded their guns and knives onto a cart to be taken away to the armory. She noticed Max doing the same with his gun, discomfort swimming in his eyes.

"You will get them back," Tom reassured.

Mal placed the gun reverently atop the pile, giving up her gun with an uneasy look in her eyes.

-:-:-:-:-

"You're Melody, right?" A tall probably ten or so in senior years stood in the open doorway as Max stepped out of the house and walked down the porch steps. "It's Mal."

"Oh sorry, Mel. I'm Gregory. Come on in." She scoffs at the man. She could tell he's a man disrespecting women.

The inside of Gregory's house was jarringly picturesque. To Mal, it looked like a house in a magazine, even with the papers and books strewn across counters and coffee tables. Coffee tables. A kitchen with a refrigerator, a stove. Lamps and clean sofas, bookshelves filled with thick tomes. The house, much like everything inside the walls, looked utterly untouched by the chaos of the outside world. It made her wonder how untouched the people living inside were.

"Impressive" Mal muttered, "I guess living this nice place again must feel like the Black Night ever started."

"If it helps, neither was I," Gregory said from across the room. He was watching her as she took everything in, and when she turned to face him, he gestured toward an armchair. She shrugged and dumped herself into it, letting herself enjoy the simple wonders of comfortable seating while inspecting the man cautiously. Man, this was the most luxurious thing she'd come across in. It'd probably not be the most comfortable thing to sleep on than Neg- _shut up, Mal. Don't you ever mention his goddamn name_.

"Can't believe this place. It's like I'm looking through an image right now, you know that? Can't tell you the last time I've seen this- you've been living like this the whole time?"

"Yes. We were evacuated here by the military, at the beginning. We were told it was a safe zone, that people would be coming back for us when the crisis had been taken care of. Naturally, that never happened. It was until-"

"Charlie Marion or Charlie Pink-eye made these walls. There was a shopping mall that was under construction nearby. All these huge sheets of metal, just going to waste. He and his brother and a few Bounty Hunters were the architects, built it with the help of the community."

Gregory nodded, surprised to hear it from a young girl. "We did a lot many, but we try to regroup more, especially the Bounty Hunters helping us."

_These people haven't been out there for awhile._

"Well, it's a hell of a nice place, I'll give you that. And you just invite people right in? Send out a couple guys to scout and then take in a whole pack of strangers? You don't think that could backfire on you somehow? Seems like you're opening yourselves up to attack."

"Are you and your group planning on attacking us?" His voice indicated that he didn't think that was a valid concern.

"No. Not unless this place is suspected in a crime of the KillGames."

Gregory paled then takes a drink of his booze, whiskey. "That was in the past, we didn't know. You've had bad experiences with other people, then?"

"You haven't?" Mal countered.

Gregory's face was grim. "We have. There was a group we took in, a while back. A group we shouldn't have taken in."

"Yeah? What happened to them?"

"We exiled them. I exiled them. A few of our people drove them out."

"You just...sent them on their way?" Mal asked disbelievingly.

"You and I both know that being sent out there is nearly as good as a death sentence, Mal."

"They could have gotten back in. Driven a truck through a wall, climbed a tree and hopped the fence."

"They didn't, though," Gregory countered. "The other trouble we had was the Saviors-"

Mal whistled low, shaking her head. "The Saviors showmanship your crimes, you brought Bounty Hunters to take children in this nice town and didn't stop them. Now, I'm not here to get comfortable, and you try to excuse the Saviors by false blames of being forceful, taking half your supplies, stop your bullshit. I'm here to investigate your community, that's all."

-:-:-:-:-

Mal blinked up at the house in front of her- the house that is Tom and Sam's. They were being given access to a couple of them, all in a row. The neighborhood was pretty big, Tom had explained, and there were plenty of empty houses for the taking.

When she and the RK's stepped through the front door, she had to resist the urge to pinch herself. It was huge, clean and furnished with fresh folded blankets and sheets stacked on the kitchen table. When Johan wandered into the kitchen and turned the knob on the sink, clean water came out. They both stared in shocked awe for a moment until their eyes met, the same hopeful question written on both their faces.

"Running water? Hot showers? Man, this place is too cute." Killeen said.

They made their way upstairs to one of the bathrooms, and as it turned out, hot showers were very much a thing they had in Fairview. The RK's let the kids take the first one while Mal explored the rest of the house- four bedrooms, three bathrooms, actual mattresses to sleep on, and a refrigerator.

It was unbelievable. An untouched sanctuary, completely cut off from the outside world while you were behind the walls.

Sam grinned. "Yep. The whole place was set up with its own filtration system and cisterns. Solar grids, too, so we get electricity as well, though we try to ration it during daylight hours. The signs nearby advertising this place said it was built for sustainability. They weren't wrong."

"Looks like a neighborhood."

"It's wonderful," Vix said.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "It is until you live here as long as we have."

After everyone drops their stuff, Mal is alone with Tom and Sam in the kitchen. Sam then reached into his pocket and turned the card to Mal. She scoffed at the drawing of her. "Guess this is how you knew I'm alive."

"Sam was the one to find it first," Tom said. "I didn't know you'll be a Bounty Hunter like me."

"I didn't either. How did you guys make it out of there?"

"When Lucius attacked, we left with only me and Sam," Tom said. "We had nowhere to go. The people who lived there were dead, and we didn't have the fight to defend the others. We got through hard times. At first, we stayed at a cottage, surrounded by Infected. Our food gets less, almost starving ourselves. When it was about to run out completely, we made a very thoughtful decision and went out. Grabbed ourselves to wrap torn strips of carpet. Getting through the Infected around the cottage was very hard, and it took us nearly a full day of trying one trick and then another, of running and hiding and sneaking around, before we were able to manage it. That became the pattern of our lives. Go out, foraging for food, raising all the places, hoping to find help, hoping to find you. We then had a terrible thought of not seeing you again for a long time, deciding you're dead." Tom shook his head. "Eventually Negan found us. I never expected my friend-"

"Friend?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "Before the Black Night, they were best friends before."

She hurts out laughing. "You were friends with him? Oh, my God."

"Yeah, I was. After he found us, we stayed for the Sanctuary until he dropped us to the Eleven Towns. That's our story."

And Mal told every single detail about her story. She met a dysfunctional, group being chased and no one survived so Mal stayed alone to fend off enemies behind her tail. She told about Jasper alive but is not the same man he was from the loss of his husband, how Mal had to do the unspeakable to escape and take down the group. The gunfire, the shouts of painful screams pitched in her ear, the leader taunted her before the huge roar dragged the leader down into the water. Eventually, she described more on how she met Max, her friends, and the kids, becoming the RK's. Tom was genuine of Mal being a responsible girl, learning the steps that Tom did when Mal was young, he's grateful for that. As she tells about the Tradepost, she cuts off a lot of terrible memories, hinting out Charlie's plan with the rebuilt of the KillGames, and then meeting the Saviors. Of course, Tom and Sam wanted to know more about how she actually met Neg- the leader of the Saviors, but she said it's a long story.

 _Depending on how you are going to handle it, but the story is I was involved with the murder of his people but had nothing to do with it, were enemies than to allies, then used to be friends, and now enemies_. That would be what Mal would like to say but dismiss it.

"I'm glad we found you," Tom puts a hand on top of hers.

"I did give up on searching for you. I-I saw the disaster and in the past months, years, I moved on. I'm sorry I didn't look hard enough."

"It's OK. You're here with us, now."

-:-:-:-:-

Lugh steps out to the porch and looks at Alec who's on the bottom steps, gutting out a squirrel, and he settled beside him.

"So this is the Eleven Towns. Fairview."

"Cheesy, isn't it."

Lugh nods. "Pretty fancy, unlike the Sanctuary. Feels so strange to live in a place like this. Like the Black Night never happened. So dreamy."

The gray clouds were dissolving into pale white wisps that looked like wet tissue paper over a blue ceiling. They looked up at the gulls and vultures soaring high on the thermal winds.

"I'm really going to miss the Sanctuary," Lugh said.

"I know. Will knock Negan's ass for some sense."

"You think Mal made a mistake?"

"Not really," Alec admitted. "Negan did not have to be a dick to her. Everyone makes mistakes, she'll learn."

"Alec...? Can I ask you a question?"

"S-Sure."

"You gonna come back?"

Alec weighed his feeling carefully. "Yeah. Check on you." He was supposed to say you guys, and he slipped up, turning his eyes away from Lugh's green eyes, using his hair to hide the blush on his cheeks.

Lugh smiled and brushed his hair away. "Why are you hiding your face?"

He said nothing, he grunted.

"You shouldn't. Y-you're face is... cute?"

"Cute?"

"S-sorry I said that. It's the only word I came up with."

"Well, thanks. I guess."

He smiled and Alec chuckle softly, sending Lugh's heart beating again, or at least beating differently,

God... maybe if he ran off this porch right now he could fly.

Alec licked his dry lips and swallowed a dry throat and in a dry voice said. "I'll be leaving tomorrow, Captain Strunk and Dean Basherman gave me a fuckin' horse, my luck, to ride back home." He hands out another radio to Lugh. "I have my radio on and with me, all times, contact you when I'm visiting. I'll come back."

Lugh's eyes searched his. Somehow that made thin feel stronger. He leaned toward Alec, letting him see everything he could find in his eyes.

He knows he'll come back, but leaving is a long ahead for both of them. At least he's staying for the night.

After heading inside to see all expect one room is taken, he sees him and Alec have to sleep in the same bed. Alec was going to interject when Lugh stops him and both lay in the bed. He reaches back, finding Alec's hand, and Alec gives a little squeeze. His heart's beating uncomfortably hard in his chest and he's sure Alec must feel him shaking, but slowly he forces himself to pull Alec's arm over his waist. Alec hums softly in surprise.

"What's up, Lugh?" Alec murmurs, breath warm on the back of Lugh's neck, and Lugh swallows his discomfort.

"I need to get used to this. So, I'm... getting used to it."

Alec chuckles lightly. "Not sure this is the way to do that."

"What do you mean?" He frowns, and Alec gives his side a little nudge.

"Well, for starters, the person initiating isn't usually stiff as a goddamn board. You gotta relax."

"I.. can't." Lugh takes in a shaky breath, trying to loosen his muscles, but every part of him is tense, reluctant against the contact. His body is fighting him at every step, urging him to let it go, stop trying, there will be other chances. Alec sighs.

"Turn over, Lugh."

Lugh obeys, and as he does so, Alec rolls onto his back. He gestures for Lugh to curl up against his side. It takes Lugh a long moment, but eventually, he gives in, pressing into the curve of Alec's body. Alec hums.

"Is this better?"

Lugh hesitates. He doesn't feel quite so trapped like this, stretched out next to the larger man, head tucked against Alec's shoulder and one hand splayed across the broad chest. Slowly he nods. Tension drains out of him - for the most part, anyway - and he sighs against Alec's skin.

"Yeah," He mumbles. "Thank you."

"Don't force yourself into anything, okay?" Alec reminds him softly, reaching up to run a hand through his curls, and he stiffens minutely at the touch until Alec's hand drops.

"I know. I know." He buries his face against Alec's throat, suddenly grateful for Alec working with him, trying to make him comfortable. After this, he thinks, they're going to stay in contact. They have to. Lugh hadn't realized how much he'd needed a friend- more than a friend like Alec in his life until now.

"I got you, Lugh," Alec murmurs. "I got you. Sleep."

Lugh is all but helpless to obey, exhaustion taking the place of worry. It seems, lately, that those have been his only two moods; but Alec's... comforting, relaxing, fingers rubbing circles in the small of Lugh's back. His eyes close of their own volition and he sinks into sleep, relaxing against Alec's chest.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal didn't sleep that night, her eyes bloodshot and heavy-lidded, rimmed with dark circles. The wearied look on her face made Mal want to throw a pillow herself upstairs and try to catch a few hours of rest on an actual mattress, but he settled for a yawn and leaned against the kitchen counter.

Lalon and Tom rooted through the basket of supplies a girl named Clay, one of Sam's friend had brought over in search of something they could make for breakfast.

"There's canned fruit. Powdered eggs," Lalon said, pulling items out and setting them on the countertop. "I'll have to see what else we can get from the pantry later. A few more ingredients and we could be having pancakes in the mornings."

Together, they scrambled up some eggs, which weren't half bad with the addition of some seasoning. Once everyone had been served, Mal sat beside Rin, who was scarfing down her eggs like they were threatening to crawl off her plate. Mal grinned. Lugh and Alec get downstairs to feast as Alec says his goodbyes to them, leaving to go back to the Sanctuary. Mal notices the Lugh sad of Alec leaving, and Mal pats his shoulder, seeing there's feint elf something going between the two of them and she's fine with it.

A man named Captain Strunk stopped by as everyone was finishing up breakfast.

"Everyone sleep alright? Settling in?" He asked, and was met with collective nods and murmurs of approval. "Good. That's good to hear. I mentioned yesterday that he would be giving all of your jobs." Mal recalled Gregory mentioning something about that during her interview yesterday, amid the questions about how she'd ended up with the RK's. "A few of you already got your assignments, but there were a couple I hadn't quite placed yet. I've got them now, though, if you'd like to hear them."

They nodded, and Mal sat back in her chair, wondering where she'd be assigned.

"Lalon, you'll be going out recruiting with me." Lalon's reaction to the news was minimal, a jerk of his long hair, and a nod to indicate that he'd heard. Strunk continued. "Lugh can be with Sam on finding a job. You can work part-time in electric crank."

"Mal and Vix. I want you two to be our new constables." Mal and Vix looked up at Strunk from their seats at the table with identical looks of surprise, and the woman chuckled. "Actually, me and Tom made the choice, Gregory doesn't care. Don't look so shocked. You both care very deeply about the safety of your people. And from now on, the people here, all of them, are your people. You and your group are a part of our community now. In all ways. As equals. I see it that way, at least. I hope you'll come to feel the same way soon."

Mal spent the day at home with the kids and AJ, the others having scattered after breakfast to take on their job assignments. Captain Strunk, sensing both Mal and Vix's confusion about what exactly they were meant to do as the constables of Fairview, had stuck around for a while to explain that they would be in charge of guarding the community, keeping it safe, patrolling the walls and looking after the citizens.

Mal still felt that that was a bit of a vague job description, but she hadn't argued. Any job that let her keep a watchful eye on the people and activities within the walls was a good job by her.

Max wandered off around mid-afternoon, telling Mal that he wanted to go meet the other kids that lived in Fairview. She reluctantly wanted him to stay at home but Vix decided to let him be.

"He'll be fine." She said.

"I know. Vix, I'm going to give you something that I know you are ready for this. This is the time to show yourself as a leader."

"Mal, I'm not. You are-"

"People follow me, but I'm just the muscles, using useful and smart tactics, that's all. I see leadership qualities in you, Vix, and I want to help nurture that. I need someone ready to take up the mantle, help Tom and the others, to keep in line with Gregory, and see who's our suspects of the KillGames. And I want it to keep growing this place, Sanctuary. I see you create a vibrant community, with industry, commerce. _Civilization_. Real lives."

Vix considered it for a full minute, and she accepts it. "I won't let you down."

"You won't. I know you'll do very well."


	33. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No way," she mutters. She opens the case to reveal a clean acoustic guitar, a brass color base and the strings in good shape. Her fingers graze over the smooth base, thumb dragging across the brass string.
> 
> It must be Tom's; vaguely remembering him outside the apartment of the quarantine zone, legs up on the railing and picking his way a tune, never singing since he became embarrassed to sing in front of her. She picks up the guitar, sitting on a chair and laying the guitar on her thigh.
> 
> She plucks all six strings, and tuned the six string half down a step to have the right tune and notes. Then she strums the guitar with some picking.
> 
> Future Days by Pearl Jam - Album Lightning Bolt, 2013

Negan had bitten his nails down to the nub. "Where did you leave her at? No wait, forget it. I don't want to know where you fucking dumped that little ingrate. She can go ahead and fucking rot in whatever god forsaken hole she was left in. So where is she?"

Alec was noticeably startled by the question having been given barley any time to get into the room before Negan started in on him and rolled his eyes on how Negan even being so incredibly pissed to hell, he still has some empathy for Mal yet very childish so it makes Alec laugh a bit.

"Relax, we found Fairview. Her friends and the kids are there for 'er. If you're up to meet her, it's just a couple hours away-"

A vase is thrown at him. " _It's couples hours away_? Four hours, Alec! What if something bad happens to her or worse? What if one of those shit heads gets her bitten? How the fuck am I suppose to help if she's that far away?"

Alec puts his hands up. Thankfully he had dodged the vase; this not being the only time he played victim to one of Negan's temper tantrums. "Negan, she's fine okay? Relax, I gave 'er a walkie from Vix and told her to keep it on the private channel so you can listen in on 'er calls whenever you want-"

Negan cuts in. "Don't tell me what I fucking can and can't do." His face was red with rage, frowns burrowing his eyes and good Alec can handle and even seen Negan having an angry tone. Usually, everyone would be scared however with Alec, he's okay with it. Slamming his fist into the wall, he steams down a bit before sighing and slumping down in his desk chair. "Was she alright when you left?"

Negan's tone was filled with anger but lased with worry. Alec smiles fetching his leader, his best friend a well-deserved, and much needed a drink from his mini-bar in the office. "She's not talking, mostly about you, but she's good. I mean, she's one tough girl. She became constable in that town; people think she's a Fairview, yet she does say she's a Savior."

Grinning to appreciate the great friend he has for Mal. And to see Negan still cares for her, but reluctantly tries to hate her for what she'd done.

Negan perks up. "Really?" Alec nods, handing him the glass. Negan sighs, taking it motioning for his right hand to get one for himself, which he quickly accepts. "Negan, it's the Fairview, one of the most docile obedient trademarks you own. And Mal can really kick ass, especially with her friends. Vix, Lalon, and... Lugh." Alec takes a drink, trying to pretend that the alcohol made his cheeks blush than thinking about Lugh, most of the nights with him. Negan caught his gaze but forgets about it by taking a swig of the drink.

"I mean what could possibly happen?"

-:-:-:-:-

Mal found Captain Strunk's gift as soon as she'd gotten to the house. She couldn't help but stare at it as she laid it out on her bed: A police uniform, the full jacket and tie, complete with patches. Instantly, she imagined what Tom would of looked like before the Black Night, in the badge and khaki shirt, to the hat, to the chasing criminals.

She scolded herself, knowing it would feel like dressing up- don't let this place make you think otherwise, not for a second. You may be behind a wall, but everything beyond that is still the same. Everything in here is still the same, it's just hidden. Don't drop your guard. She puts the uniform in the closet.

"Not going to wear it, constable." Lalon said.

"It's weird. We're here for reporting about the KillGames."

"Sucks, doesn't it? About three times those games came back."

"It is."

They exit out of the house. The trees around them were filled with birdsong, and cicadas droned incessantly in the tall grass. Mal leaned her forearms on the fence and sighed.

Soon Sam and his bunch of friends come to the yard.

"So you're Mal?" The cocky boy flashes a smirk that could possibly resemble any goofy boy trying to flirt with a girl. "I'm Dylan, sugar."

"Sugar?" Sam said. "Enough with this. Ok, Mal. That is Dylan. This is Benny, Clary, and Jessie."

Jessie smiled, Clary just nodded her head as Benny blushes and reaches out for her hand. She accepts and shakes Benny.

"So tell us, how you meet Negan?" Dylan asked. She drummed the wooden panel, not wanting to talk about him ever again.

"Is he what everyone says, hot?" Clary said.

"Of course he is," Benny countered. "He's the most badass Bounty Hunter ever."

"Someone has a crush," Clary said.

"Shut up."

Mal gets an idea, asking the group they are being trained by Tom. If one can beat her, she can tell her whole story, the whole story. Lalon warned everyone about Mal being the winner and they'll have a couple of bruises and sores after the morning.

Fifteen minutes later Mal tried to kill Benny with a sword.

The weapons were wooden sticks. Mal demolished Dylan as he went so cocky, slicing the stick in the air, and Mal knocking some sense into his thick head. Jessie didn't participate it in, Clary sat in the grass, writing in her leather journal. Benny did try his best but he slipped in his hands and a big swat and poke in the neck he gets out the fight. Now Sam had more training in him, but Mal is killing him.

Sam twisted out of the way if the sword with maybe a micron to spare. He could feel the blade slice the air; he heard the swoosh of the wind. Sam threw himself to one side and tried to roll behind the picnic table, but Mal was as nimble as an ape. She leaped onto the tabletop, dropped quickly into a crouch, and as Sam came out of his roll and started to rise, Mal stopped him with the edge of her weapon across Sam's windpipe.

"You're dead."

Sam put a finger against the blunt edge of the wooden word and pushed it away.

"You cheated."

Mal lowered her sword. "How do you figure that?"

"I dropped my sword," Sam said. "I told you to give me a second."

"Oh, please. Just say it that I beat your ass."

"Okay, okay, whatever. Let me catch my breath." Sam dropped his wooden sword and trudged over to the picnic. "Besides," he said. "I'd kick your butt if it was a fist fight."

"I doubt it." She smiled.

" _That was cool_!" Said Clary.

"Hit him again," said Dylan.

"Yeah " agreed Jessie. She didn't smile as broadly as Dylan and there was an edge to her voice.

"Will you teach us to fight like that?" said Benny.

"Eventually, sure," Mal said, dropping her sword on the grass.

"Please, tell us how you met Negan. Please?" Dylan pouted, kneeling over to make his plead more desperate.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. You wanna know. I came to order on killing his people at a sheriff's department in their sleep. The Calvary Boys and I went, I didn't like the idea so I escaped when the Saviors found us, and he put me into my knees, threaten me, bashed the boys in front of me, taunted me, and then dragged me into the Sanctuary. At first, I wanted to kill him to escape but realized I was wrong about him, and then we became allies. Fought and destroyed other communities, and now he put me this because he's an asshole."

They had shocked, widen eyes. Well, you wanted the whole story.

"So... Is _he_ actually _very sexy_?" Clary smirked. "A handsome devil."

"To answer your question, yes. Negan is, but don't go for him. He's a man-whore- no, just a whore- who has eight- seven wives, and he's a dick." She twitched a snarl, sighing a frustration.

"Okay," Lalon said. "You guys wanna fight, we'll teach you. Now, pair up. We'll run through attack and defense. Don't really try to hit one another, but make the attacks as real as you can safely manage."

Dylan pushed Benny out of the line, and they settled into stances. Benny was only slightly better than Dylan. He was faster, but Dylan was light on his feet for a stocky kid; he was at least twice as strong as Benny. Jessie left to go back to her work.

That left Clary and Sam as partners. They squared off, raising their swords in the ritual salute and settling into their stances. Lalon called, " _Begin_!", and Clary lunged forward to deliver his attack. Sam slapped her sword aside and tapped her hard on the head. Clary saw stars.

"No," said Lalon. "We're trying not to make contact."

"Oh," said Sam distractedly. "Right."

-:-:-:-:-

Vix in the last talked to Gregory about their community rules and defenses, and most of the talk was about him being snarky, foolish, and personally mistaking her name, calling her pet names which she snarled at. She eventually had enough, spatting on she's now in charge, will obey his rules but will not let him push her down, and her name is Vix. Not honey, not Vivian, nothing, just Vix.

She comes across Tom and Captain Strunk, telling about each other. Once upon a time, Captain Strunk had been an acting teacher and director, but during the madness of the Black Night, he'd stepped up and organized the defense if the school that was attacked by Infected during a late rehearsal of a new play. About thirty-seven children, two adults made it out by him. Now Strunk helped organize the town's defended and served as a commander for the fence patrols and the town watch. And although he and Tom agreed on many things, Strunk had no inclination to expand the town or reclaim the world. As for Tom, she could see him as a cop. He lost so much he wasn't stable, the reason why one of the name Tom the Killer become another nickname, he hated that. He rather call it closure. He did regain himself, and it is all thanks to Sam and Mal he took care of.

"What do you think about these KillGames?" Strunk asked, running his fingers through his thick, curly heat hair.

"These games exist. I've seen it," Vix avoided the memories. "Kids being thrown into a pit, defenseless and trapped with Infected coming at them while people are betting rations."

"It's not a rumor." Said Tom. "The scouts and traders are saying that a bunch of rough-looking characters have been moving into the area since the last KillGames."

"After Charlie died."

"I heard wild takes," said Strunk. "It's back in operation. Without a militia of any kind, a few of our kids disappear each week like they are trying to not be suspicious. A few Bounty Hunters, Sally Two-Knives, Dreaded Skillz and DJ Derby, they say a man named White Bear is running the operation."

"We'll find them. It's why Negan brought us here. Mal made me determine this system, become your leadership. You will report to me any suspects; Bounty Hunters, people in your community, anyone who's connected to White Bear. Ask the traders where the area is. If it's close to where Charlie's is, it might be around there."

He laughed. "Damn. I like you. You should be the mayor."

She smiled genuinely. "I'm a Savior. I'm Negan, that's all."

Tom nodded his head, grinning in fascination. "He's right. Did Mal teach you this?"

"She did. She saw my potential. Let's point that she didn't learn by herself."

He gasps a chuckled. "I taught her right."

"You did. But before coming into Tradepost, we are all leaders working together. Until we saw Mal being the one to follow and knew if anything happens to her, one of us has to take control and take care of the kids."

When Mal got to Gregory's house, he comes outside before Mal greets Vix and Tom.

"Ah, Mel. You didn't wear your uniform. Just like Tom, he doesn't wear his either. You would of look nice and official. I'm sure you're both wondering what exactly you'll be doing as constables. Tom told you the old mantra from his days on the force: you protect and serve. Patrol, watch the wall, protect the kids. If there's a conflict, solve it. People will listen to you."

"Because we could of wear windbreakers?" Mal deadpanned.

"Because they believe in this. Because I'm telling them to. A police officer used to live here, so we had these uniforms. I wanted to make it official. So it's official." Strunk said, nodding to her.

"Can we talk security? There were a couple things I've noticed that I want to get fixed."

Strunk nodded and gestured away from Gregory, which he went back to his house, "Of course."

They made their way outside and the four of them walked the walls, Strunk listening intently to Mal's observations. Mal felt fractionally more at ease now that she had a sounding board for the security concerns she'd had. She pointed them out as they walked- how someone could scale the fence, how the lack of a proper lookout opened them up to threats.

And Strunk nodded along in agreement, said they'd make alterations to the wall so that it couldn't easily be scaled, agreed to a constant patrol of the border.

"Lugh's a good shot with a rifle, our best sniper. He could man the clocktower, be on the lookout." Vix offered.

"We'll take shifts," Strunk agreed, "I know a few people can swap out with him. And anyone else who can do it. We've been lucky so far, and we haven't needed a lookout, but I can see why you would feel more secure in having one. Better to have it and not need it, right? This is good, Mal. You're already protecting this place."

"I know Gregory doesn't want people being armed within the walls-" Mal began and Strunk cut her off.

"I agree but he don't. And if we make the changes you're suggesting, he thinks we won't need to be."

Mal suppressed a frustrated sigh, "It's a start."

He nodded, "Good. Now, one last thing. Gregory hosting a gathering at my house tonight. A welcome, for all of you. I'd like you all to be there so you can meet the community. Your community."

Mal's stomach churned at the thought of being packed into a house with a bunch of other people- especially people she didn't know or trust, but she wasn't sure how to say no.

That's probably not an option.

"We'll be there," Vix said, "All of us."

-:-:-:-:-

The party was an uncomfortable affair, to say the very least. People in the party and Gregory was doing their best to make the RK's feel at home there- greeting them all, directing them to food and drinks- but there was an air of awkwardness surrounding everyone from their group. Lalon only seemed to enjoy himself once he found the beer and flirt with a few girls and Mal was looking woefully uncomfortable surrounded by the easy chatter. Lugh and Vix huddled close together on the fringes, happily offering to take AJ off Mal's hands- Mal suspected this was so that they could look busy. Mal took some comfort in knowing that her reluctance to be here was a shared sentiment, though. The kids, thankfully, hovered close by, occasionally brushing Mal's shoulder as if to say, I'm comfortable with you.

Gregory introduced them to a Bounty Hunter, Motor Hammer- a bulldog face man, so threatening you rather not mess with this guy in any joke. "You're quite a girl," he said, retracting his hand without so much as a curious look. "I watched the tapes. All of them." He nodded approvingly. "You are a Savior."

Mal rubbed a hand over her hair, still not used to the feeling of more skin than hair there. "I have three Famous Cards from you." Killeen said

"That's damn impressive," Hammer admitted, "But... you ever fought mano to mano, little buddy?"

"Not really."

His large stature leans down to his eye level of Killeen. "I could teach you."

"We already know how to fight." Johan snark at Hammer. Mal smiled a little at that. Hammer seemed genuinely annoyed, felt threatening by Johan. He held a glass out to Mal. "Have a drink," he offered.

Mal leaned away, shaking her head. "I'm good. I'm too young."

"C'mon. Who gives a shit, drink 'er up," Hammer said in a passive tone and Mal debated on this man's pressure, her eyes flicking from the glass to Hammer's face. She felt Rin come up beside her, her presence warm and small that made Mal concerned on how she thinks about Hammer. She refuses again and he left the party.

A little while into the party, and Mal was feeling a bit better. Max was off to the side, talking with a couple kids his own age. Smiling, laughing. It made Mal feel more at ease, knowing that Max was adjusting and making friends- the other kids met kids like their ages but they weren't used to the other kids act a world without fear and no training, unlike Tom and his trainee's.

"Mal!" A soft voice calls over. Jessie moved to pass the crowd, a glass of wine in her hand.

"I didn't think you would come here."

"I debated it. We have parties like this in the Sanctuary, but not like this."

"C'mon, constable. You oughta be meetin' people, anyway. Max is doing good, been hanging around with others. The lanky red shaggy hair boy is my brother, John, and I have a younger brother Kirsh who's about Johan's age."

Mal laughed a little at that- Jessie must be a little on the tipsy side, she mused- and Jessie stared at Mal with glittery eyes. Mal braced herself for a second at the hand reached for her and took it.

"It's good to have new people in our town." She withdrew her hand- hopefully not too quickly- thankful that the alcohol had made a touch more tolerable on Jessie, because she felt like she'd been expected to shake about a dozen people's hands tonight, and Jessie everyone was as accommodating.

Before Mal could brace herself, her hand was taken by a blonde man in a sweater. "This is my father, Perry," Jessie introduced, and Mal clenched her jaw, biting back on the urge to wrench away. She was thankful when the man dropped his hand.

"Mal. Wanted to thank you for stepping up and being our constable," Perry said. "We keep growing at this rate, we'll need more of them. Especially seeing who is stealing our children."

"Sounds like that's what Strunk's wanting," Mal agreed. "Gregory's dismissing all of this."

"If you want to drop by my office next week, I can take a look at you." Mal tilted his head, wary, and Perry laughed. "Probably should've said I was a doctor first," he amended.

Mal's whole body seemed to seize up at the thought. The idea of someone- especially this man, a complete stranger- taking a look at her make her itch all over. She swallowed hard, trying to push away images of cold hands and probing fingers.

She snapped out of the sudden discomfort that crept over her and escaped the crowded party to Tom's house.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal locked the front door behind her and then checked all the other doors and windows methodically, her worry giving way to compulsion.

She was surprised how quickly the kids fell asleep in their beds, almost immediately conking out once their heads hit the pillows. Mal tucked AJ in, kissed every one goodnight. She feels the night wind cooling Tom's house and she enters a desk room to close the window. When she closes the window, she accidentally bumps over a guitar case.

"No way," she mutters. She opens the case to reveal a clean acoustic guitar, a brass color base and the strings in good shape. Her fingers graze over the smooth base, thumb dragging across the brass string.

It must be Tom's; vaguely remembering him outside the apartment of the quarantine zone, legs up on the railing and picking his way a tune, never singing since he became embarrassed to sing in front of her. She picks up the guitar, sitting on a chair and laying the guitar on her thigh.

She plucks all six strings, and tuned the six string half down a step to have the right tune and notes. Then she strums the guitar with some picking.

_If I ever were to lose you_   
_I'd surely lose myself..._

She stops, unable to play the song anymore. It brought regret and sorrow to sing the lyrics, bringing a deep pain of what she had done of straining her relationship with Negan. She lost Negan and is at the tip of a plank at a deep sea of losing herself.

"Well," said Tom, leaning against the door frame and watched without her noticing him. Mal composes herself back, not wanting to show any emotion in front of him. He enters the room with a cup of steaming coffee and sits down on a chair. "I didn't know you played guitar. Where did you learn it?"

"Negan." Mal replied. "He, uh... when I was settling in Sanctuary, he wanted to teach me to play the guitar. We had lessons every night. He said nothings more sexy than a woman playing guitar."

Tom chuckled. "Can you play that song for me? It's been a while since I heard Pearl Jam."

"Sure. Okay."

She settles herself back and starts strumming the song and hopes not to hesitate on singing.

_If I ever were to lose you_   
_I'd surely lose myself_   
_Everything I have found here_   
_I've not found by myself_   
_Try and sometimes you'll succeed_   
_To make this man of me_   
_All of my stolen missing parts_   
_I've no need for anymore_

_I believe_   
_And I believe 'cause I can see_   
_Our future days_   
_Days of you and me_

She strums the last few chords and ends. She sees a gleeful smile on Tom's face. "He taught you very well."

"Yeah, he did."

"I always wanted to teach to guitar, but never had the time. But, you found your way to it." He sips his coffee. "I heard from the Saviors that Negan is good with you. You been close with him. Well, before this. Can you tell me what happened between you two?"

She taps her fingers on the guitar. "We had disagreements. I didn't obey his rules. I was being stupid, thinking of my own rules than listening to others." Sighing, she tightens her lips.

"You never listened or obeyed to commands, even as a kid. Those Flyer Frontiers had so much trouble to control you."

"It was us RK's. We accepted what we discussed on what's right and what's wrong to us. We never relied on communal places and work around mandatory rules build to others. And what I did was anger. I was angry at him, but... I somewhat understand what he meant. And I feel stupid to make that act. So it's why I'm here. But not much of a punishment, just another assignment. Finding about the rumors of the KillGames resurrection and keep me occupied at the time being."

They sat for a second to let Tom ponder what exactly Mal did, only accepting her half based story. "He, uh, Negan cares about you. I heard stories of him hanging around a lot with you. Not that he hangs with everyone, but he mostly spends much time with you. He's a good man, compared to many people."

She shrugs her shoulders. "He's alright."

He chuckles. "Better than asshole. Sam told me what you said."

"Well, still is an asshole. But, he's a good man."

"He's good to you and it's good to have someone like him to help you on troubling times. He is like your father figure."

Mal had to hold back her outrageous laugh, only chuckling at his response. "No. He is no father figure to me." She shakes her head, putting the guitar back in the case and softly smiles. "I say he is a... um, friend to me. A friend."

Tom drinks his coffee down, getting up. "Get some sleep, tonight. Got to get up early tomorrow. Goodnight, baby girl."

Tom saying baby girl reminded Mal of Negan. His voice came out as he said that familiar name he called her. She heads out the room and enters her own bedroom with some anxiety.

A bed to herself. A _room_ to herself. The last time she'd had that had been at the Tradepost, and it had been a tiny bunk with a mattress so thin she could feel the unforgiving metal beneath it. Strangely, she suddenly longed for the comfort of the barred door that she could close behind her at night. She pulled her clothes off, stripping down to a t-shirt and shorts, and slid under the sheets. It was warm, comfortable, roomy- made for two people. The last time she'd slept in a bed like this she had been next to... Neagn. The thought created a pang of loneliness in her chest, and she rolled onto her side, unconsciously groping at the empty space beside her, for once wishing there was someone close enough to touch and hope for someone to watch over any of her nightmares, be there for her.


	34. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaning against her ear on the metal frame, there's a banging thud-thud-thud behind the wall. She has no doubt an Infected is on the other side, wandering its way through the wall, lighting tapping against the wall.
> 
> Welcome to the Hotel California  
> Such a lovely place  
> Such a lovely face  
> Plenty of room at the Hotel California  
> Any time of year you can find it here
> 
> Hotel California by The Eagles, 1976

Mal never slept. Her skin is tight and sweaty, she feels the imprinted scars on her back burning from the nightmare. She continually wipes her dried tears away; why she had to ruin everything. Why she never learned to follow.

Mal washed and dressed to her usual clothes and did her job as a constable and talking to the people. She hadn't done much today- just patrolled the wall and asked around about people for inform which none were interesting when she passed by an open garage to see Jessie inside, looking forlornly at a pile of twisted metal on the ground.

"Hey," She said, taking a step inside, "You alright?"

"Oh, hey, Mal. Yeah, I'm fine. Just...someone must not like wolves." She replied, indicating the pile. "It was a sculpture I was working on with the boys. I walked out here and it was like this."

"Someone came in here and did this?" She could make out how it was supposed to be an wolf now, but several pieces had broken off in its tumble to the ground. "I can look into it for you. Try and find out who did it."

Jessie shook her head, blonde ponytail bobbing. "It's not a big deal, Mal. Really. What would happen if you did find them?"

Mal shrugged. "Some kind of consequences. If we're going to start searching for suspects and find the missing kids, we've gotta start somewhere, right?" She gave her a small smile. "Besides. I need somethin' to do today."

After that she goes back to Tom's home. The house empty and quiet; Max was off with Jessie's brother, John, and a few other teenagers, the kids were with the other kids with Jessie's youngest brother Kirsh as well, and AJ was soundly asleep in his crib upstairs. Mal was just about to go check on him- for the fifth time in a half hour, she was a little more than paranoid- when a knock at the front door interrupted her.

She answered it, surprised to see Perry, Jessie's father, standing there with a couple of beers in hand. The man didn't wait for an invitation, opting to walk right inside and into the foyer between the kitchen and living room. Mal caught a whiff of him as he strolled by- the beers in his hand were clearly not the only ones he'd had today.

"Hey, Mal. I was havin' a beer, thought I'd bring you one. Heard you helped out my daughter today." He offered one of the bottles to Mal expectantly.

Mal eyed the bottle but didn't take it. "I'm good, but thanks. And I didn't do much earlier."

"C'mon. Don't tell me you're still on duty."

"I kinda always am, you know." Mal replied.

"Even at the party. I saw you. Your friends were drinking there. So, what's your story with you and..."

Perry trailed off, and Mal supplied the missing name. "Negan."

"Right, Negan." She withdrew the offered bottle, seeming to grasp that Mal wasn't going to take it.

"I wish I could've done more today," Mal said, "I didn't get much. I asked around to see if anyone saw anything, no luck."

Perry shrugged, seeming unbothered. "It was just a wolf. In the grand scheme of things, I think we'll live." Mal nodded, unsure of what to say to that. Sure, the sculpture wasn't a big deal, but it wasn't like there was much else for her to do today but look into it, and Jessie had seemed upset about it.

"Heard you were exiled by Negan," Perry suddenly said, and Mal nearly startled at the sudden change in topic. She tried to keep her face impassive- this wasn't a subject she was keen to discuss with a tipsy stranger, especially one giving off the vibes Perry was. She'd tried to brush off their initial meeting as poor word choice and her own paranoid discomfort, but even now, she felt like something was not quite right with Perry. "Guess it's hard, especially losing someone and being abandoned to your own community and people. Negan's such a prick. But some people like his _charm_."

"...Just a punishment, that's all." She rather not have Perry say something else.

"I heard you lost people. We've lost things here, too. May not look like it, compared to what you've seen, but we have. Some things we've lost, some things we're just trying like hell to hold on to. I hope you all see that."

Mal nodded, eager to have this conversation end. "We see that. We do."

And then all of Mal's senses were on high alert as Perry lurched into her space, looming a couple inches over her. Mal swallowed hard, rooting herself to the spot and trying desperately to quell the influx of fear that was lapping at her. "Let's be friends, Mal. We kinda have to be, don't we?"

Mal forced a smile. "Yeah."

Perry broke into a grin. "Good." He clapped Mal on the shoulder, and then again on the back as he made his way toward the front door again. Mal sincerely hoped that Perry was drunk enough that he didn't notice how she flinched at the offending touch. "I'll see you around," Perry called, already halfway down the porch. Mal watched him go away. A swell of relief composed of Perry leaving overtook Mal, and she left the house to the backyard where the wall is towering over the house.

Leaning against her ear on the metal frame, there's a banging _thud-thud-thud_ behind the wall. She has no doubt an Infected is on the other side, wandering its way through the wall, lighting tapping against the wall.

She leans her forehead to the wall, letting herself listen to the pounding and moans. She's like to climb over, be out in the Ruins. It strange to want a place where it kills you, no protection. Fairview isn't safe at all. She starts singing one of the songs that he played to his rock n' roll collection and taught her to play this song by guitar. She remembers every note, every picking, the way his hands glide through the neck of the guitar. She knows this song really tells her what this place is to others, all of this is just a monument to the dead.

_Welcome to the Hotel California_   
_Such a lovely place_   
_Such a lovely face_   
_Plenty of room at the Hotel California_   
_Any time of year you can find it here_

After leaving to head back to the house she finds her friends. She needed to discuss about something she'd seen when she was awake in the middle of the night and went over the wall.

"Hey, guys? You wanna come with me? I want to talk to you about something." They nodded

"Sure thing, Mal." Said Vix

As it turned out, Mal didn't want to just talk to the RK's. She signed the paper by the Red Zone gate and left. She brought them outside the walls under the guise of shooting practice. They walked for a while, the three of them exchanging equally confused glances, before they came upon a small, decrepit house in the middle of the woods. Mal immediately started digging through a pile of decrepit furniture and trash out front, pulling the lid off of a dingy blender. When she opened it and saw nothing inside, she seemed distraught.

"Mal, uh. No offense, but what the hell are we doing?" Lalon asked.

"I stashed a gun in here," Mal muttered, dropping the blender back into the pile with a frown. "When I walked off the day we got here. Just in case, you know? It's gone."

"A straggler probably found it," Vix said, "Someone out on their own."

"Probably," Mal nudged at the blender with a booted foot, "But that's not really what I'm worried about. Gregory doesn't want us armed within the walls. I do. Gregory has been bringing Bounty Hunters that he doesn't know if they were involved of the KillGames. And I brought you three out here because I know you're not real happy about the lack of weapons, either."

They nodded, and Mal seemed satisfied. "Good. Because I want us to break into the armory. Take a few guns- small ones, nothing they'll notice missing."

"How?" Lugh asked, "It's locked up at night, and we can't just walk out carryin' weapons during the day."

"We could sneak in. There's a window, I can leave the latch open," Vix supplied.

"What if someone shuts it?" Lalon asked.

"Wait a couple days, leave it open again," Vix replied.

"We need to do it sooner rather than later," Mal said, "Right now, they're not watching us, not looking out for meetings like this. We may need the guns, we may not. But I'd rather have them. If anything goes south- we need to be able to take this place and find out our suspects, know where the KillGames are now."

Her friends couldn't help but grin at that. Mal's understandable paranoia never leaned itself to weakness, and they all admired that. She never chose to hide in her fear- she steeled herself and got ready to fight. "Hell yeah." Lalon said.

"Listen, the others- we want people to not know about this. They're not capable of protecting themselves, who knows they're in this or too scared to stand up. So we keep it quiet. Just us." Mal looked around at them, waiting for their agreement, and she got it with solemn, curt nods. "Good. Lalon leaves the latch open, we pick our moment."

They headed back at that, and Vic walked in tandem with Mal, shortening her long strides to match the smaller girl's. "Why didn't you bring Tom?"

Mal looked conflicted at that. "I thought about it. I did. But he really wants to believe in this place. He needs to and he's fighting for a better change. I was going to ask him, but I thought he might try to talk me out of it."

"He may want to believe in this place, but he's smart enough to realize that there's a chance it may not work out. I think he would have backed you up."

Mal sighed. "The less people that know about this, the better. If things start taking a bad turn, I'll tell him."

Their conversation was interrupted by a walker stumbling into their path lurching unsteadily toward them. Lugh raised his gun and hit it with multiple shots to the chest before ending it with a shot to the head. "We said we were going out shooting," He explained, "Can't come back with a full magazine."

"I'm going to check around the area, up southeast for anything."

"Be careful."

The forest path wound around and began sloping down toward a road that had once been blacktop and was now cracked and torn by the unstoppable roots of trees. Young trees, some of them a dozen years old, stood in the middle of lanes where once cars had driven. She walked through the knee-high weeds, stepping over old bones that might have been human, though Mal didn't want to stop to examine them. Ahead a brown truck lay on its side. Mal could read the letters "UPS" on the rusted back door. The moldering remains of old boxes tumbled out of the back, and what little cardboard remained was bleached white by twenty-eight years of rain and snow.

She silently drew her gun and crept toward the truck on the balls of her feet. The woods were alive with birdsong and the buzz of bees. Mal came up on the truck at an angle, and her face was drawn and pale, her lip curled in disgust.

Black blowflies swirled in a thick cloud around something on the other side of the overturned truck.

It was a man. Or, it had been a man. He stood straight, arms out to his sides and secured by ropes to the axles of the truck. The man wore only torn jeans and nothing else. Not even skin. Most of him was gone. Torn away. Consumed.

This man had not been attacked by Infected.

He had been fed to them.

Mal glanced again at the dead man, thinking on the possible reasons who had done it. She sure it's one of the people that are involved with the KillGames. She investigates more on the body.

He's been dead for days, whispered Mal's inner voice. His neck isn't broken, no bullet in the head, he was for sure alive as he was being eaten by force.

"Well, well," said a familiar voice. She whirled as the recognizable person stepped out of the woods right after more come out. "If it isn't the famous Mally." He spoke softly, his smile never wavering.

Mal did not lower her gun. "Calvin. What a surprise."

His appearance changed, all the Calvary Boys: Ryes, Magnus, Damian, and five others. They don't have their white face paints on their body, now covered in clothes than chest naked. Most of them kept their bald heads, Calvin definitely didn't, letting his brown hair grown into a stubble. His grey shirt is ripped with tiny holes, and the red jacket is long and dusty.

The rest of the Calvary Boys aim all their guns at Mal. "I guess being Charlie's bitch didn't quite fit your status."

"Charlie's plan was a disaster from the beginning. Let's just say I found a better deal."

Mal's eyes narrowed. "A deal to rebuilt a stable KillGames again with White Bear."

His face turned stern. "You know him?" She questioned and he shrugged.

"He's new as a Bounty Hunter. Big guy from Nevada. He does not actually have a drop of Native American blood in him, unlike the half-breed friend of yours."

She hissed at him. "Since Charlie and his whole gang got killed, there's been a lot of talk about who was going to take over his territory. Charlie always had prime real estate. Fairview, Tradepost, Eleven Towns, couple of other towns, and the trade route all through these forests and mountains. So White Bear wants it all. And he's bringing KillGames. Stealing kids from Fairview, try and sell them to the people running that place. Put them in the Infected pits."

Calvin bellows an ugly and surprised laugh, and his gang follows as well. His smile never faded, just widen more.

"Oh, man. Mally found out our plans. Oh no, we're doomed." He said with a cold smile. "You gonna tell your boyfriend, Negan about this. Come after us with an army like you did with those Claimers and weird talking people?"

Magnus laughs. "She appears to be alone."

"Where's your man?" Ryes jokes, and she shook her head on how disappointed this boy has become.

"Ah, did Negan took a taste and dumped you. Guess Charlie wasn't good enough for you."

"At least I had the guts to kill the guy who raped me than leaving like a coward. I think Charlie gave you some tricks."

Calvin snaps at Mal, throwing a swing on her head before she blocks and fires a shot to one of the stocky boy, and runs off.

The whole group fires as Mal vanishes into the trees, hearing the loud rumbles of the trees being hit by the bullets. Running so far away, they some reason stop shooting and the forest makes an echo of Calvin cursing, swearing to kill Mal, which she doubts will happen.

She left the old road and found the highway of going to cross between Fairview and the Sanctuary. Despite the fact she's breathing hard and her clothes and jacket were thoroughly soaked with sweat, Mal still mustered the energy to look left and right, left and right, checking every shadow under every tree for some sign of movement that could be either the boys, Infected, or worse.

She has to tell this to Alec, she told herself, but her inner voice- the more emotional and more rational aspect of her mind- responded, You go directly to the Sanctuary and tell Negan everything, including your apology.

She walked, ran and walked. During one of the walking times, her finger itched for the radio on her waist, yet her legs and her mind desperate on going back to Sanctuary, to home. Around the bend was the car that they took to get here. The car is busted of the blood, guts, and bones squished in the truck. There's no way to drive it.

Mal focused on the road ahead and studied on the scene, debating on what to do. The surrounding vegetation was dense with overgrowth, but there was an ancient billboard that stood against the trees. It had long ago been whitewashed, and someone had written it in bold letters: **Sanctuary ahead! We are the Saviors!**

It's couple miles away, walking will be long yet was it worth it. She wants to be back home. The Tradepost was just a community, she could go there. Forget about her purpose or her punishment she'd done. The Sanctuary is her home, and she ruined it. She ruined her relationship with Negan.

There, she said his stupid, motherfucking asshole's name. Negan, who is a cocky, blunt man that is... generous. A man that was there for Mal in her darkest moments, who never left her side. He laid in her bed, wrapping his large body to warm her, to let her sleep and take away all the nightmares. She needs it; she can't sleep, the nightmares are back, and she is really sorry about what she had done. Mal's already shaking her head, holding back her emotions.

 _Will she go back_? Mal thought this process long and hard, knowing no matter what it will hurt. However, if she did go back, will he accept her. Or be rude to her and throw like a dog. She's conflicted on her decisions, unsure of what to do and if she can handle any situation that can come forth.

_Will I go back or not?_

Soon after she made her decision.

-:-:-:-:-

Negan's door abruptly slammed as he is interrupted on paper work, organizing food supplies and gaining the Tradepost to grow corn for ethanol. Before he's about to bark at who is bastard to interrupt him. To his surprise, he couldn't believe his own eyes.

Mal stood over his desk, fury flushed over her face, giving him the same stink glare she always has. He let Mal see Negan's jaw clench as he gave the briefest of nods, obviously not happy with her decision.

"What the fuck are you here?" Negan asked.

"Wanted to know why you didn't punish me."

"I did. I send you a pretty picture. I exiled your smart-ass out of my community."

"But you didn't give me the punishment?" She increased her pacing in an attempt to stop herself from taking it out on Negan.

"What you mean about that? That's your punishment."

"Oh yeah cos that really hurt me." Mal said sarcastically.

"Why are you gettin' pissy with me?" Negan was getting just as angry with him, his voice getting louder in the room. "You came all this way just to bitch at me."

"You punish people by killing or get the iron, or worse. And what I get is investigate in a fucking nubile town!" She spat. She wasn't wrong, Negan intentional didn't want to hurt Mal. Sure, he's down right pissed, biting her head off, making insults to hurt her emotionally, but he never at the slightest idea of raising a hand or bat at her. Mal had made him soft over her.

"So _why_? Why won't you do it?"

" _Cause I fuckin' said so_." He shouted at her, she'd stopped pacing, now the two of them were standing one another. Electricity sparked between them as they let their anger out on each other

"Why?! What made you think I wouldn't handle a punishment?"

"Don't you say it like that!" He spat, slammed a fist on his desk with a rustle and stride so close to Mal, towering her with his tall height.

"Then tell me why. Why you didn't punish me like you did with your people, by any means necessary. _What's your deal Negan_?!"

They stood there for a moment, taking each other in. It was stupid, what Negan just did but he needed to release his feelings for Mal. His hands wrapped around her neck, bringing their bodies closer together as he kisses her, savoring the taste of her lips. The warmth from her lips radiated through his body, and Negan immediately pushed her away, regretting the decision.

Her face is contorted with many emotions, he's thankful she's not in any fear. He couldn't believe he done it. _What the fuck are you doing, you shit-head_ , his inner voice screamed. _She won't ever go near him again, she'll hate him. Fuck me sideways, you kissed a girl that's twice young as you, you fucking pervert!_

"I... I'm sorry, Mal." He couldn't look at her, facing down at his feet. "I shouldn't have done that. You can go now, I get it. I'm-"

Mal never left. She inched her way close to Negan. They'd see each other soon enough and he stays over night while she slept, but it felt like an eternity of electric sparks flickering inside his chest he could hardly breathe. Mal wrapped her arms around his neck, one hand cupping his salt and pepper bearded cheek, bringing them together to the warmth and coolness of their leather jackets. Mal's eyelids fluttered closed as their mouths inched nearer, he breathed in deep as their lips met.

Negan let her lead. He let Mal take complete control, let her explore with quick, darting kisses that tested the water. He let Mal decide when to deepen it, groaning softly when she did, their mouths moving slow and supple against each other. Mal licked into his mouth, the kiss growing wet, and Negan responded then, pulling Mal closer to himself, kissing at his swollen lower lip while Mal panted against him. _So good_ , Negan thought. _So, so good_. The wet slide of their mouths, the stuttering of their intermingling breaths, the way Negan's hands wove into her hair, the slight throbbing pain from the split in her lower lip as it was gently abused- he loved it all.

The two moved so that Mal was laying on the desk, their lips never parting for an instant. Tongues battled and teeth nipped, their bodies growing hot. Negan quickly stripped off his jacket, letting his captive push her hands under his t-shirt and feel the muscles beneath. The teen lifted up off the desk just enough for Negan to remove her leather jacket, feeling almost inadequate as he returned to lick and nibble on her delicate neck.

" _Oh, Negan_." She moaned and-

Negan abruptly jumps out of his bed, waking up from his wet dream of him and Mal. His hair sticking on his sweaty forehead, under the sheets feeling a sticky wetness.

"Oh, fuck me."


	35. Chapter 32

Negan had shifted his attention to his wives on releasing the sexual frustration and taking away the imagines of Negan taking advantage of Mal. Any time those women are begging as he pounded, what's his first thought- Mal. God, he couldn't get her off his mind. The last time he slept with Bethany, she'd been on her stomach and when he pulled out and painted the small of her back with his come, she swore she heard him mutter a small, " _Oh, Mal_." She hadn't said anything, but she didn't have to. Negan caught himself apparently; but he hadn't apologized.

Mal changed him and his friendship on her.

Sitting around the parlor with his wives, Negan's head flopped back against the couch. "Is there anymore wine, Danielle?"

"Yup. Bud knocked over a liquor store about a week ago." Without prompting, she brought Negan more wine.

"Something bothering you, Negan?" Amber said, coming over to massage Negan's shoulders.

He took a sip of the red wine - way too fucking bitter, but alcohol was alcohol - and sighed, long and loud. "Fuck," he mumbled, staring down pensively at his half empty glass. Negan twirled the delicate glass stem between his fingers carelessly, losing himself in thought for a moment. "It's nothing."

Over Negan's head, Catherine glanced up from her book from where she was curled up in her armchair. All it took was another sigh from Negan, and Delaney come over to rub on his leather-clad shoulders. Out of this he would of like this comfort, but wasn't in the mood for there release. They're like animals, and sometimes Negan will had enough of this shit.

Once Amber lowers her hand down to cup his crotch, he moves out of his chair, and stormed to his dorm.

Sometimes he just wants to get off, without any subterfuge or foreplay. This was the time when he lays back in the tub, unzips his pants, and goes to town. He'll spit into his rough palm for lubrication, before wrapping his long leather coated fingers around his thick cock and starting up the perfect rhythm. He didn't take off his gloves, since the feel of the cool, smooth leather is extremely erotic against his hard, pulsing dick. And the sight is so naughty and taboo, watching his leather-coated hand wrap around his cock and pump up and down, that it makes him throw back his head, eyes fluttering closed as he moans. It doesn't matter how many women he's slept with, or how often, none of them are able to give exactly the correct amount of speed and pressure that he can give himself. And imaging Mal in his mind drives him crazy. He'll reach down with his other hand and play with his balls, squeezing gently and causing his hips to rise up, thinking that she doing all the work on his dick, fucking his own slick hand until he comes all over himself with a groan.

After releasing, feeling a bit regretful of having Mal as his personal masturbation imagine. He use his fingers to scoop up the ropes of cum that have landed on his hand and shirt, and lick them clean.

The next day he finally hears for a long time of Mal's voice over the radio. He knew Alec gave her a private section between their radios, but Negan hacked it in and listened to them quietly. He laughed and smiled on how Mal hated the place towards Alec, explaining the suspects such as Hammer. He could see Hammer being involved.

But what made him sad was to hear Mal wanting to come back home. Did he have to push her away? He shoved it away, she needed to learn.

Later the evening, leaning over the railing to see his people marketing their supplies, sympathetically, Catherine tentatively broached the topic. "I'm not here for the sex."

He smiled. He liked Catherine, not because she has a great ass but she's simple, not too needy. "I see you're all moody. Is it about the KillGames?"

"Yes and no," Negan answered dully, and added with a hint of bitterness, "Everything with KillGames is just peachy-fucking-keen. This has to end for fuck sakes."

Catherine gave him a moment, and then continued, "Negan, I think you like Mal."

"Of course, I fucking do. What's not to like about her? She's a hell of a fucking girl. Always willing to take risks right along-fucking-side her people. Sure, she's an annoying teen bitching about things. But she never the one to tolerate the bullshit. Fair. Just. Loyal. Shit." He shook his head, whistling lowly. "She's fucking perfect.." Negan quaffed the rest of his drink and gasped appreciatively.

Seizing the opportunity to speak during Negan's pause, Catherine pushed. "Not to sound juvenile, Negan, but that's not what I meant."

"What did you fucking mean then, Catherine?" Negan leaned back. He had yet to meet her eyes, seemingly distracted.

"I mean you like her the way you like us," She explained, choosing to use a Negan-esque phrase to make her point. "You'd like to fuck her brains out. But more than just that."

A pause, and then Negan carefully responded. "Shit," he stretched out, lolling his head to the side to catch Catherine's eye. Negan groaned, lifting his head back to look up at her.

"Come on, Negan," Catherine cajoled. "You love her."

Negan drew in a sharp breath, and then released it just as sharply. "I do fucking not."

"Negan, it's okay." She placed a comforting hand on his arm.

Releasing that he was being ambushed by his wife, Negan relaxed his tense form, no longer antsy and fidgety. "Fuck. Is it really that obvious that it's not just my fucking raw animal magnetism?"

"After winter? Definitely."

"Shit."

Negan's face crumpled as if he were in pain, eyes squeezing shut. He huffed again and passed his glass off to Catherine, using both hands to rub his temples. "It's OK if you do. You care for her. Remember why and when you like her. It's not just sex, you yearn for her."

She pats his shoulder and left Negan to his thoughts. He went back to his room to think about everything. Negan sat forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together under his chin as he stared hard at the glass coffee table.

He loved every single thing about Mal. All of her pouts and glares. He loved the fight she put up. It was damn sexy. Admirable. She was a fucking woman. A good woman, doing what she thought was right. But he never saw as weak; when she told him all the pain of that rapist, he never saw her weak. He seen a survivor, helped her be with her in comfort. Being the likely friend she never had, watching movies together, and to have his arms around her small body.

He remember Mal was in her room. She were putting AJ down for a nap, or at least trying to. He always fucking fights his naps. The other teens would be at their wit's end, but Mal just took him from her arms and rocked him back and forth, crooning to him. It was.... It was a country song.

Negan laughed. How did it fucking go? He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, "I start walkin' your way. You start walkin' mine. We meet in the middle beneath that old Georgia pine." He listed off into a laugh.

Mal crooned to him and bounced him around on her hip, and once his little darling eyes closed, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and slipped him into his crib. It was... it felt.... he felt, something. Something Negan hadn't felt in a while.

Pressing his lips together, Negan refused to tell how it made him think of how unfair it was that he and Ellie never had a baby. They would of wanted one really bad, but it just wasn't in the cards. Watching Mal do that, though, Negan thought of what it would've been like for him to lean against the door frame and watch Ellie bounce their little boy or girl around while she'd sing something like Elton John. In that moment, he had tried to picture it, but all he saw was Mal, and he wondered what Mal would do if Negan snaked his arms around her middle and pull her flush against him, chin on her shoulder, watching AJ sleep.

Negan's eyes darted to the bat in the corner. What will Ellie think of him now? He felt so guilty on hurting Ellie more.

He grabs Ellie and heads out the gates, into the back walls, and let his men open the gates as he follows the path to the trail.

He walked through an old road that's overgrown of grass and old busted trunks. He finds in the middle of the forest where only Negan knows the place and no one is allowed to come here. It used to be a small ranch. The ranch was all weather damaged, and every garden was overgrown, but there were no Infected. The gates and fence were still sturdy from all it's years. Coming to the porch and to the left he goes to the garden where primroses grew. He delicately picked them before heading to the handmade cross with a chain necklace hung and a wedding ring on it.

Kneeling down to place the flowers on top of the ground, he gave a sad smile. "Hey, Ellie." He takes out Ellie off his shoulder and he kisses the top of the bat, not kissing the sharp metal.

Negan led his way up the porch, down a hall and into a spacious living room that had once been light and airy. Now it was pale and filled with dust. The wallpaper had faded, and there were a cold fireplace and a mantel filled with picture frames and a photo book. Negan stood looking at a particular picture for a long time and then reached up and took it.

It was framed, but the wood was worn where it had been touched many times. The picture inside looked worn also, like it had been in someone's pocket for many years. It was obviously from a wedding. It was him so young in his early twenties and a woman embracing, his arms wrapped around her from behind, his lips on her cheek as they both smiled at the camera. She was tall, but not quite as tall as him, with wild curly red hair and a heart shaped face. Her eyes were a piercing green, a color one didn't easily forget. She had the time of her life. He once did too. And he wished he was better for her. He wonder why she never left him, just stayed by him.

Going into the marriage, they both knew it was going to be tough. Two people marrying, and their words didn't match up? That was destined for trouble. It didn't matter. Negan liked going home to Ellie every night, even if that meant he took a few detours before he stepped through the front door. He couldn't help it. In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't fair to Ellie to go chasing after every fucking person while she's suffering from her cancer treatment. It wasn't wrong to find the right answer, Negan told himself every time he was balls deep in some poor broad or man.

Hell, Negan wouldn't have blamed her if she was stepping out, too. They were doomed from the start. But he desperately loved that woman. She was fierce, having two type A people aren't exact allies to begin with. She stayed with his poor old ass through it all until she died.

He couldn't see her fight against the Ruins; she was weak and when she had gone, a part of Negan was took from her. And she made him strong. He wished he done so much better for her, to leave all the pain he'd giving her. Somehow after Ellie is beyond weak, so pale he couldn't stand looking at her, she forgave him. She forgave all the troubles and shit he gave her because she loved him.

She told him that it's okay to move on and find someone else.

Fuck, Negan didn't want that. He still has this tug on his chest if he betrays Ellie. If he finds someone again, he knows he's cheating on her again. If he loves them, he'll lose Ellie because she's never be there for him. She'll fucking piss on his dead corpse. Yet this guilt trip confused him on what he wants for Ellie and what Ellie wants for Negan in the future. So long he tried to be with her; he laughs if he did, how Ellie would put a fight and say, "you fucking coward. Why you had to do that?".

He remember Ellie promise. Ellie will let Negan move on for her, to not have this emotional state. Hell, he even named his bat her name and dirty talks to it like he did with Ellie. Maybe he could find someone and love again. He won't love like he did with Ellie- and not make the same shitty mistakes he'd done- but he'll have someone again.

That someone could be- is... Mal.

It hit Negan that he wanted that. He didn't just want the domestic scene, the baby, love. Negan wanted it specifically from Mal. He wanted to rock AJ on the porch. He wanted to teach all the kids how to play pool. He wanted to cook dinner for Mal after she comes in late. He wanted Mal to look at him that way, with pride and love and affection and tenderness. He wanted Mal to love him like he was in love with Mal. He was in love with Mal.

Almost as if Ellie was there to hear Negan's thoughts, he glanced up at the bat. Negan knew in that moment that there was no way Mal would ever love him. And it hit Negan harder than he liked.

"I made your promise, and I fucked up, baby." He said as his wife was there, grazing the bat delicately. "I found someone. She's a badass, a fighter that never gives up. Admirable, stubborn, a bit hot-headed, however she's smart, caring, and is a beautiful girl. I do like her, Ellie. But I fucked up. I opened my big loud mouth and threw her away. I know you're laughing at my stupidity."

He puts the frame over the mantel. Swinging the bat up, he closes his eyes to not let himself cry. "How can I apologize to her now? She hates my guts, and she won't ever like me. Everything she'd been through, she'll think of me as a pervert, and I do down fuckin' right am one. J-just please, Ellie," he pleaded, slipping only one tear down his face. "Give me strength to bring Mal back and the courage to tell her what I feel for her."

He sighed and loosened his grip. Closing and locking the door behind, he gives a quick glance to what is Ellie's grave. Ellie's wedding ring dangling through the soft wind.

"I hope you've forgiven me to find someone else. I still love you, and I hope you don't hate me for this. I love you. Goodbye."


	36. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blind panic struck her all at once, coming in from all sides. It was all too familiar, the pressing weight against her back, the dizzying smack of her skull against the floor. Nausea flooded her, and she bit back bile and bald fear, feeling her hands start to shake. She struggled, scrabbling at the floor, her ears ringing, and then the weight was off of her.
> 
> "Don't you fucking touch me, don't you fucking touch anyone, you fucking piece of shit-!"

Luckily Lalon sneaks inside and took back their weapons. All the RK's and the kids put knives in their pockets, and only one pistol in case for emergencies. Max didn't want a gun but kept his switchblade. He watches over the kids playing with others like him. The teenagers wanted to push him away and hang out on the pond but Max needed a break. He liked being a teenager, however, everything about this place looks fake like a book coming of life but boring to read. People ignore their pains- Max understands- and the kids are free to go anywhere. They never worry about themselves outside the wall and never once trained, unlike Sam, Benny, Clary, and Dylan.

Suddenly John approaches Max in a grumpy slouch along the way, a stupid smirk on his face. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Watching the kids."

"That's boring. Why not leave for a bit?"

"I like to watch for the kids. I'm fine, and it's not boring."

Scratching on his matter ugly brown hair, he leaves Max alone to a few girls who are suggestively looking at Max. He blushes under his cap before looking back at Kirsh going up to Killeen.

"You keep a gun?" Asked Kirsh.

Killeen immediately went into alert. He touches the back of his shirt, pulling it down. He's doomed. Now he'll tell the mayor and won't be trusted again.

He turns to him in a serious face, which he never is quite serious. "Can you keep a promise?" He nodded. "You can't tell anyone about this. Not even your family. If you make this promise I'll ask Lalon to make cookies for you. Got it?"

Raising a demanding finger, Kirsh nodded. He gave a sad shrug. "Why can't I have them now?"

"Lalon can't make them in an insistent." He barked, releasing his harsh tone on the small boy.

"Fine," he sighed. "I get sad sometimes. I never learn to control it, just break things. I lied to my sister about breaking her wolf sculpture."

Killeen heard of Mal saying about Jessie's sculpture. It wasn't their concern and he didn't know where the kid is going with this.

"C-can I have a... gun?"

"What?" He can't even trust a single ounce on the kid to have a gun. "Why do you need it?"

Kirsh shakes his head, frantically panicking. "It's o-only for protection. I-I-It's not what you think, it's not for... me."

Suddenly he runs away before Killeen question him more. Max cocked his head at the grim looking Killeen. "What's wrong?" He asked, coming up as the others group around Killeen.

"He saw my gun-"

"Killeen!" Johan bit through her teeth.

"I'm sorry, I thought I pulled my shirt far enough. Anyway, he was asking for a gun. For protection.

In a quick spite, Max drove the kids towards Tom's house. Mal and Lugh outside the door, discussing- more like Mal arguing about Gregory rules, the Calvary Boys still alive and working for White Bear, and the Hammer has to be one of them. And also that Mal will use Jessie for information on Perry since Jessie was drunk and kissed her cheek of affection. Mal said to Lugh that'll she act on this crush for information and that's all.

"Man, that a bit harsh."

"Sorry, but I like her as a friend, nothing more. Look, Hammer is definitely the guy stealing the kids. He was a partner with Charlie and the Marion family. He has to stop him before he makes another move."

Lugh opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Max, Killeen, Johan, and Rin coming in the back door, Max's face is stormy and discontented. Both teens turned to face him, and Mal tilted his head, wondering why he looked so concerned.

"Perry's hitting Jessie," Max said darkly, "maybe her younger brother, Kirsh, too."

They were both on their feet in an instant, looking to Max and the kids.

"How do you know this?" Mal asked, mentally replaying her interactions with Perry and Jessie in her mind- she'd had her own reservations about Perry, but this...this was a big accusation, and certainly not one that Max of all people would make lightly.

"Kirsh stopped by today for Lalon to make cookies for him," said Killeen, "He caught me with my gun behind my shirt, and I promised to make some to keep him quiet. He said he gets sad sometimes, that he breaks things. He's the one that broke that wolf statue you were asking everyone about, Mal. And he asked me for a gun. For protection. He said that it wasn't for him, and then he ran off before I could ask him anything else."

Mal heard Lugh's sharp intake of breath, could see him squaring up his shoulders in heated anger beside him. "He said he wanted it for protection against Perry?"

"He didn't have to." Max's face was infinitely sad and knowing, his despair for the boy and his sister etched deeply onto his face.

" _God_ ," Lugh growled, "You were right, Mal. She was just saying that she had a bad fucking feeling about this prick."

Mal was inclined to agree with him. She couldn't have guessed that this was what was going on with him, though. Rage twisted inside of her, thinking of Jessie and Kirsh- Sam, John's little brother, who couldn't be more than eight or nine- cowering under Perry's dominating presence. Suddenly the man's midday binge drinking seemed much less sad and much more threatening.

Mal's face was grim, rage sparked inside her as she turned to Lugh. "I know how this is gonna go with Perry. There's only one way it can go. We're going to have to kill him."

Rin nodded in violent approval. "We should but not now. Maybe try to talk to the Mayor about this. How the hell has nobody noticed this before now? They've all been together in this place for over years- I find it hard to believe that nobody's noticed that the two of them are getting knocked around."

"We can't just kill him-" Lugh started, holding a hand up to silence Mal noise of protest. "We can't. We're not in charge here."

"He's dangerous, Lugh. We can't just leave Jessie and Kirsh unprotected." Mal interjected.

"We're not. Believe me, we're not," Lugh intoned, "but we have to play this smart. If we just start killing people first and explaining after, these people could turn on us real quick, and that's going to get real bad for us. I'll talk to Gregory tomorrow, you can talk to Tom. He's smart, he's kept these people together for this long. He seems like a man who will do what it takes to keep the order."

"And if they aren't?" Johan asked.

Mal gritted her teeth. "Then I'll kill him. Like you said."

-:-:-:-:-

Mal waited for Tom, eager not to waste any time as he enters his home.

"Mal, everything alright?"

"We need to talk. About Perry," Mal said evenly, "We have a problem."

Mal could see the way his face changed to curiosity.

"What is it?" Tom said.

"Perry's abusing his family, hitting on them," Mal growled, finding her words. "Lugh talked to Gregory and he knew about this, thinking it would be better. It hasn't gotten better, Tom. It won't, not on its own. This isn't the first time I've seen something like this."

Tom frowned. "Gregory's not a smart person. Even I knew something wrong about Perry.

"Gregory wants him alive because he is a surgeon. The only person we have who's a trained medical professional."

Mal thought of the Flyer Frontiers, how she'd made do with surgeon training. How she'd taught the RK's. How the Saviors, working together, had managed to get a bullet out of her shoulder and stitch her up. "We've managed to make do without a surgeon. We have people who know how to patch things up. We can make do without him."

"No."

"He's beating his kids!" Mal snapped, "We have to stop it."

"And how are you proposing we do that, Mal?"

"We separate them," Mal offered, trying to find a compromise that wasn't killing him. "Tell him that's how it's gonna be from now on. Appoint someone- maybe a couple people- as guards, like parole officers."

"I like that. What happens when he doesn't want to do that?"

"It's not his choice," Mal answered grimly.

"But what happens, Mal? What happens if he tries to attack one of the guards, or slips out and tries to go back home?" Tom asked.

"I kill him. We kill him."

Tom's eyes narrowed, surprise to hear the words coming out of Mal. "We don't kill people here, Mal. This is civilization."

"And letting someone abuse his kids, what's that then?" Mal barked, "Is that civilization?"

"We're not killing people." Mal asserted.

"In the Sanctuary, we save people. But people against the rules, breaking them we punish or kill them." Mal pinched the bridge of her nose, making a frustrated sound behind her teeth. "So what, then? What would you propose we do?"

"We can separate him from his family. We'll give the charges to him, put him jail before making a decision to do what we need to do. We can't kill him just like that, Mal. We need people to vote, we need a reasonable choice, even if we have to kill him."

Mal barked a mirthless laugh at that. Who the hell was he kidding? "So you're saying is kill or exile him? And who's to say he doesn't come back? Doesn't sneak over the wall? We'll have no way of knowing when he comes back or where he is if we do that."

"We're not executing anyone, Mal. Don't suggest it again, ever. That kind of thinking doesn't belong here."

"People die now, Tom. They do," Mal implored. "You know what it's like. It's times like this where you can decide who and when. Some people don't deserve second chances, and it sounds like Perry's been given a lot more than two."

"Mal, you can't go off killing people," Tom said firmly.

"I can."

"Because it's your choice. Does Negan give you that or does he not let you. Mal, not everything is killing people. You know that, right?"

"I know the damn difference of killing people for justice and killing people for fun. Don't you put that on me, Tom." She spat in anger. How dare he said that to her.

"Mal, please-"

"Tom, _stop_ this. Stop talking to me like I was twelve years old. The girl you used to know has changed. I've seen many things, had to be the one doing the hard choices that no kid should ever do."

Mal left without a backward glance, frustrated and annoyed. She made a beeline for Jessie's house, wanting to talk to her first- it would be easier to get Pete out of the house if she went along with it, after all.

She found her around back, in the garage, lit cigarette between her lips, smoke dissipating around her. She snuffed it out when she saw Mal, looking a bit rueful.

"Don't want John and Kirsh to know about those."

Mal dipped her head. "Your secret's safe with me." And then, testing the waters: "How's Perry feel about them?"

She saw it- the nearly imperceptible flinch there. "He doesn't mind."

There was no way to ease into it, so Mal just dove right in. "I know what he's doing, Jessie. That he's hitting you. That he's hurting you. It has to stop."

Fear flickered in Jessie's eyes, and Mal ached for her. "It will. It was like this before- before everything. He got help, and things were good. I helped him. I can fix it again."

How many times had Mal heard that from similarly abused people, how she experienced of her abuse from that monster? How many times had she talked to that had tried to defend herself as the pain keeps getting worse? "Jessie. You can't. But I can."

"How?" Jessie snapped, defensive. "What are you going to do, Mal? Put him in jail? It doesn't work like that anymore. Anything you do is just going to make it worse."

Mal's eyes flashed. "If it's gotten worse, it means he's killed you. Or started hitting your boys. Unless he's already done that, too."

"He hasn't," Jessie interjected, "He hasn't, it's just me."

"And you don't think that's enough to warrant some action?" Mal asked.

"Why do you care?" Jessie was lashing out now, feeling trapped. Mal hated to have put her in a corner, especially since she knew exactly what that felt like. To be backed up, terrified. But she wasn't going to hurt her. It was almost an offensive question to ask- why would she care if a woman was being beaten by her father. Did she really need a reason more than "any decent person would"? Was it pleasure on killing Perry like he was Charlie since she never got the chance to do it? Maybe that's why.

"I've seen a lot of people die, Jessie," Mal said gently, "Friends. Family. My mother, even. Some of it couldn't have been stopped. But some of it could have. There are people I could have saved, could have helped, but I didn't know how to. I don't want you to be one of those people. I don't want to lose anyone else."

Jessie's face softened a little at that, but she quickly steeled herself. "I can take care of myself, Mal." She moved to go back inside the house, but Mal called out to her again right as she opened the door.

"Kirsh asked my friends for a gun. To protect you. Is that taking care of yourself?"

Her steps stuttered, just for a moment. And then there was the sound of the front door slamming, and she tensed, her whole body on alert. "Perry's home. You need to go. Now."

She pressed the button to close the garage door, and Mal watched her as she disappeared.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal scrubbed a frustrated hand over her face, unsure of how to proceed. Now that Perry was home, she couldn't try to talk to Jessie anymore, but she didn't feel right leaving her and the kids in that house with him for another night. This wasn't something she felt right about waiting around for the perfect moment.

She had to get Perry out of there, but it wouldn't be the best move to confront him on her own- Perry was bigger than her, and while Mal had the muscle, she knew that it was likely to become a knock-down-drag-out brawl if she went alone. She got the feeling that she was on thin ice after their conversation today.

And, shamefully, she felt a knot of fear in her gut at the thought of Perry putting his hands on her. It wasn't going to stop her from fighting- there's no way she would allow his lingering trauma to prevent her from doing what she knew had to be done. That wasn't what she wanted to do here.

Lalon. Lalon would help her. He was helpful for Mal anytime, after all.

Except she couldn't find him, not as she ran the border of the wall to catch him on patrol. Where the hell was he?

Mal shook her head. She didn't have time to be running around in the woods trying to find him. In the risk, she'll take the beating. She fought men twice her size and fought them to a bloody pulp. She grabs her colt, implicating if it comes to this, and it'll certainly will come to it.

She began walking across the street toward Jessie and Perry's when she heard a muted crash from inside and breaks a run.

So much for going in easy.

Mal threw the front door open without a second thought- the sounds of shouting could be heard from the street now. She was glad Perry hadn't been in the frame of mind to lock it- she didn't mind breaking it down, but she'd prefer not to waste any time while Perry had free reign to do what he wanted.

She burst inside, the front door smacking the wall beside it. Mal took in the scene before her for a moment: Jessie, crumpled on the floor, her lip split and spilling blood down her chin. She could see the shadow of a bruise already forming around her left eye. Perry loomed over her, his face going slack for a moment as he registered that he wasn't alone with his child anymore.

And then his face contorted into a furious, mocking sneer. "What do you know, your little _girlfriend_ come to rescue you! That's what you wanted, isn't it, Jessie?" He shouted, shaking with rage. "I heard you talking to her in the garage- telling her our business! What gives you the right, what gives you the fucking right-"

He kicked a booted foot out at Jessie then, and Mal shot forward at once. Mal grabbed him from behind, slamming him against the wall and dove to the floor, helping Jessie to her feet.

"Go, go upstairs, get Kirsh and get out of the house, you need to go!" She said urgently. She nodded, eyes red-rimmed, and then they blew wide.

Mal felt a sudden weight smack into her from behind as Perry go up and tackled her, the side of her head cracking against the hardwood. She felt the wind get knocked out of her, lungs struggling to suck in breath while Perry's superior weight crushed against her back.

The blind panic struck her all at once, coming in from all sides. It was all too familiar, the pressing weight against her back, the dizzying smack of her skull against the floor. Nausea flooded her, and she bit back bile and bald fear, feeling her hands start to shake. She struggled, scrabbling at the floor, her ears ringing, and then the weight was off of her and she rolled over, throwing herself to Perry.

" _Don't you fucking touch me, don't you fucking touch anyone, you fucking piece of shit-!_ " Mal was screaming, fists flying between her and Perry. Then he landed a solid blow to Mal's temple that sends her reeling back into the fireplace mantle. Perry was on his feet in an instant, advancing on Mal, and Mal acted without thinking, grabbing Perry by the collar of his shirt and shoving him back.

"Stay back, stay the fuck back! Just come with us, there's no way out of this-" Perry elbowed her hard across the face, and Mal tasted blood. Mal shoved him back again with both hands, and when Perry drew back to throw another punch, she lunged, tackling the larger man straight through the front window and onto the porch.

Perry let out a cry of pain as his body went through the glass and landed on the shards, but that didn't stop him from clocking Mal square across the nose. Mal pitched to the side, and Perry stumbled down the front steps and into the street, the back of his shirt shredded, blood running in rivulets from cuts on his face and arms.

Mal followed him down and then they were on the ground again, rolling around on the gravel and throwing vicious punches. Mal managed to get the upper hand for a moment and get on top, her knees digging into Perry's sides as she landed blow after blow to the man's face while Perry's blindly struck out at her, catching her in the side of the head, the ribs, the jaw.

Mal's hands went for Perry's throat nearly of their own volition, fingers closing around his neck and squeezing, choking the life out of him. Perry wheezed, struggled, batted at her hands, shouting at him how worthless he is, he'll never fucking touch her again.

She wasn't the only one shouting, Mal realized then- a sizable crowd had gathered, the likes of which included Gregory, Tom, Captain Strunk, Max, the RK's and Johan, all of whom were shouting things that Mal couldn't hear over the rush of blood and adrenaline soaring through her.

She caught a glimpse of Jessie, who was holding a crying Kirsh to her chest.

Mal shoved off the ground and got to her feet. Mal was shoving him back, keeping a firm hold of his shirt with torn knuckles, and Mal snapped. She reached under her jacket, pulling her gun out from its hiding place and aiming it at Perry. She heard the collective gasp of shock from the onlookers, but she kept her eyes on Perry.

"You're gonna want to step away from me now," Mal said, surprised at how even her voice was. She hated that her hands were still shaking, but she didn't need them to be steady to make the shot from this range. Perry stared down the barrel of the gun with a mixture of disgust and horror on his face.

"You gonna kill me, Mal?" He grinned then, sounding almost cocky.

"Mal!" Gregory's voice filtered through the crowd and she turned to him, gun still trained on Perry. "Stop this!"

Mal didn't lower the gun. "Or what?" She mused, "You gonna kick me out?"

"Put the gun down, Mal."

"You don't get it, none of you do!" Mal barked, "We know what needs to be done and we do it. We're the ones who live! All of you, you want to hide, want to pretend. That way gonna get all of you killed. That's why your kids are being taken and killed to these games, into pits! You want to live? You want this place to stay standing? Your way of doing things is done. Starting now, we live in the real world. We need to control who lives here." She jerked the gun at Perry, and Gregory's eyes narrowed.

"That's never been more clear to me than it is right now. I see now you never belonged to us, I can exile you."

Manic laughter bubbled up in Mal's chest and she dropped her arm, wildly gesturing to herself as if in surprise. " _Me... me_?" She laughed, "You mean me? Your way is gonna get people killed. And _you're right_ , I never belonged to this place. I came to help, but your such a dick coward behind your desk and whisking your problems away by letting Bounty Hunters that could be Charlie's men. I'm not your people. I'm a Savior. _I'm Negan_ -"

All at once, a blinding force struck her from the side like a truck, and she was back on the ground, her gun skittering a few feet away to land in front of Dylan's father. The crowd started in with the shouting again as Perry began his assault again, and then everything was chaos. Mal and Perry both lunged for the gun at once- Mal was faster, her fingers brushing it, but Perry kicked her sharply in the stomach and she recoiled, wracked with pain, and the taller man grabbed the gun, pointing it at Mal. For a horrifying moment, Mal's blood ran cold, and all she could think was this is it, this is fucking it.

Perry was shoved sideways right before he pulled the trigger, and the gun fired inches from Mal's head, deafening her with the resounding spark of metal on asphalt. She reeled back, dragging herself away in an attempt to get his bearings, and saw Dylan's father and Max struggling to wrestle the gun from Perry, hands grappling at the weapon.

Mal watched in frozen, muted horror as Max reached for the gun- for one blessed second, he had it, and then Perry's elbow met his face, and he was knocked back on his heels, blood pouring from his nose. Dylan's father and Perry were locked in a struggle for barely a moment, but Perry managed to get the upper hand, fingers tightening around the trigger, and-

And Mal saw it just a second too late.

She shouted out a " _No_!" that didn't reach her own ears, but it didn't matter- the gun had already fired, the bullet ripping violently through Dylan's fathers throat, a tide of crimson swallowing him and Perry. Dylan dove down to pull his father into his arms, shouting, screaming, his face nearly the color of the stain spilling down the front of the crisp white shirt.

Mal saw the opportunity and took it. While Perry was still reeling from the shock and noise of the shot, Mal tackled him, she wrenches the gun- carefully this time- and out of his hands. Max kept Perry pinned this time, and Vix broke through the crowd suddenly, rushing forward to help keep him down.

Mal turned to Dylan, whose face was tearful and devastated- but resolute. His hands were a wet, shiny red. His father had stopped moving, laying silently in his arms, his lanky body pale and lifeless.

"Mal," He said, his voice sorrowful, but clear and firm, "Do it."

Mal's fingers twitched around the gun in her hand. He didn't have to tell her twice. Calmly, she turned to Perry, raising the gun once again. Max and Vix moved quickly out of the way, releasing him.

This time, Mal didn't blink, didn't hesitate. Perry's face held a defiant but fearful rage, and Mal squeezed the trigger.


	37. Chapter 34

It was Lalon that half-dragged Mal out of the street after the fight. After the influx of adrenaline wore off, Mal found herself feeling woozy from all the blows to the head and nearly being choked out. As she leaned on Lalon and stumbled into the house, Mal was relieved to have a reason to escape the crowded scene on the road. After she'd shot Perry, Jessie and Kirsh had begun crying, clinging to each other brokenly and shaking with the force of their sobs. It was the right call, killing him- Mal knew that, didn't doubt it for a second. And somewhere down the line Jessie would likely be relieved that he was gone. But for now- for now, that was her father, and that was Kirsh and John's father, and no matter how much of a terrible person he may have been, it couldn't be easy to see him gunned down in the street.

Mal didn't feel guilty about killing him, she only regretted that she'd had to do it in front of them.

The kids trailed after them into the house, shutting the door as Lalon dumped Mal onto the couch together. Lugh's eyes flashed around the downstairs in search of something, settling on Johan when he didn't find it. "Get me a first aid kit, will you? Is there one in here?"

Johan shook her head, and Lugh nodded to the door. "Can you run over to the infirmary and get one, then? Or just some bandage strips and antiseptic?" He looked them both over, nudging their faces from side to side to inspect the damage. "It doesn't look like they need any stitches."

Johan ducked out and Lugh got to cleaning up the wounds on their faces while Mal dabbed at the cuts they could see on their arms and knuckles. Tom and Vix eyed her watchfully from Vix place on the arm of the couch, her face unreadable. Tom seemed tense, and it took Mal a second to register why- the gun. The stolen gun that she'd taken and not told him about.

 _Shit_.

Johan returned a minute later, handing over the bandages to Lugh so he could patch them up. He was using a lot, Mal thought- how badly was her face mangled? She finds a mirror on the table; there was a smattering of purple and green bruises from her left eye all the way over the bridge of her nose, and then another red mark on her jaw. There were a handful of shallow cuts on Mal's face and arms, but judging from how much longer it was taking to tend to her, she definitely seemed to have gotten the worst of it. Probably had something to do with her tackling Perry through the window.

Lugh leaned back after a few minutes, observing his handiwork. "Good thing you taught us to know first aid since the doctor turned out to be a fucking prick, huh?" He mused. "Keep those clean. None of them are too deep, you should both be healed up in a few days. Anything else that needs to be looked at?"

Mal prodded at her sore ribs- the pain that flared there was dull, nothing to worry about. "I don't think so. Just bruised up."

Lugh nodded and waved on his way out the door. "No problem."

And then she were alone with Tom and the kid's worried stares.

"Where'd you get the gun, Mal?" Tom prompted. He didn't seem particularly angry, but it was possible he was just keeping a lid on it for the kid's sake.

No point in lying now, and she really didn't like keeping things from his in the first place. "I, ah. I stole it. From the armory." She winced. "Well, technically, Lalon stole it. But I was the one who asked him to."

Tom's eyes flicked between her and the colt he gave her when she was young. "So Lalon's in on this, too. All of them, as well. Does everyone have a gun? Does the kids?"

Mal sighed. "Yeah. Vix, too."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me to say something?"

Tom deserved an explanation from him. "I thought...I was scared you wouldn't back me up." She admitted, meeting Tom's eyes with sincerity and remorse. "You wanted this place so badly, you needed it... I was worried you'd try to talk me out of it. And I needed that gun, Tom. You saw it today, I needed it to deal with Perry."

Tom's frown deepened. "Reg, Dylan's father died because of that gun, Mal. It may have been Perry who pulled the trigger, but if you hadn't had it...I don't know if Dylan will overlook that."

"Perry was fucking dangerous," Mal interjected suddenly. "He didn't care that Reg died in the crossfire, and he was aiming to kill me when he was choking me. He would have killed Jessie eventually, would have crossed that line, and then what? We should have just let him go so he could sneak back in?"

Tom shook his head. "I'm not arguing that. But once the smoke clears from this, I think Gregory's gonna be asking why you had that gun, Mal. And he's going to be thinking about how if you hadn't had that gun, Reg wouldn't be dead." He sighed. "This is coming out wrong. I'm not- I'm not blaming you, Mal. I know that if you'd been allowed to handle the situation your way, nobody else would have gotten hurt- that was all Perry. I understand why you took the gun- or I'm trying to, at least. I'm not happy you didn't tell me, but I can understand why you did it, I think. I'm just scared for you. You're acting- I don't know. Paranoid. Jumpy. Your little spiel in the street about their way being over- you're putting a target on your back with these people."

"Because I wanted this place for you, Tom," Mal implored him to see her reasoning, needed him to understand that Tom's exclusion hadn't been a personal slight. "I still do, even now. I want you to have a life here, to have a chance. I want things to change this place, for you, Tom. But people that work on the KillGames is a big issue. Perry might of or might of not been with the games."

Mal sighed. "What's going on, Mal?"

Mal blinked, startled by his scrutinizing gaze. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's going on with you? This- rambling in the streets and waving a gun around when there's civilians nearby...this isn't you. If Perry hadn't tackled you, I was about to grab you and drag you out of there myself. Knock you out if I had to. Not for them, for you." He looked concerned, her brows knitting together. "I know you've been... on edge, since coming here. And I get that, we were all there, but Mal...this is extreme. When I first noticed how you were acting, I didn't want to bring it up, wasn't sure if I was just blowing things out of proportion, but this? Stealing the guns and then keeping it from the rest of us? That's not the Mal I know. So I want to know what's going on with you."

"You telling me you have no problem trusting these people? That you don't wish you had something to protect yourself with?" Mal asked.

Tom shook his head. "I'm not going to pretend I didn't come in with my doubts, but... if they were going to attack us, they would have done it by now, Mal. Dylan just asked you to kill one, let you walk away after."

Mal's face was open and earnest, "Tom, the girl you knew is gone, changed into someone else. I gave Vix the leadership to change this place, it's why Negan brought us here, even though this is suppose to be my punishment. This place is wrong for me. I don't belong here. I guess I could say this is the worst punishment, I can't stand this place and that bastards rules."

He nodded, a hunt of hurt gleamed in his bright eyes. "The bottom line is Tom, if you or any Bounty Hunter leaves, this pasty of the Ruins is going to turn into a no-man's-land. I proposed Bounty Hunters you trust- granted, meet them at the fence line and talk business. Deputize them. Pay them. But don't let random people come in and rely on being protect by your mayor."

And she finished her part as Tom understood but didn't comprehend of how she'd changed so much. It scares him a bit. The little girl he used to know is gone and grown up.

When they heard a knock at the door. Upon seeing that it was Gregory, Strunk, Sam, and Dylan. Mal was getting into the foyer, she felt her nerves flare to life- Tom's words about Dylan possibly blaming Mal for his father's death once the smoke cleared weighed on her mind, and the last thing she needed was someone shouting at her and threatening to kick her out. Vix came up beside Mal, a soldier ready to fight for her if necessary.

Dylan's eyes were red-rimmed and weary as he looked up at them- he was such a tiny boy when he is sad, Mal thought, but his presence was so strong that he seemed to nearly tower over them at times. He must have washed himself up a bit before coming over- he'd changed out of his bloodstained clothes and wiped away most of the crimson stain from his skin. There were a few stray flecks clinging to his cheek like a parting kiss.

"Now, Mal. You have a lot to explaining to do." Barked Gregory, rubbing over his long beard.

"You want to know why I had a gun." Mal noticed how Tom lingered a couple feet back- making it look like they weren't ganging up on a grieving Dylan, but still coiled and ready to defend Mal if need be. She knew she was right in telling Mal that he would back her up about the guns.

Captain Strunk nodded solemnly. "I do. I want to know where you got it and how you got it and if anyone else has one."

Unthinkingly, Vix jumped in immediately with a smooth lie. "Found it outside the wall. We kept in in case of emergency." Better to let them think there was just one- really, there was no need for Dylan to know about the one she had stashed in the back of her jeans at the moment, or the ones the RK's had.

There was a moment of tense silence before Gregory whipped a turn to Mal, looking like he didn't believe Vix in the least. "I believe that's a lie. You women, speak the truth." His voice made Dylan feel so mad, and Mal couldn't blame him. Even Vix had enough of Gregory's lame excuses.

Mal sighed. "No. I did stash a gun outside the wall before we got here, but it's gone. Don't know where it is, someone must have found it. I stole the gun from the armory. Left a window unlocked and snuck inside after Lydia left for the day."

Dylan looked satisfied with that answer. "Why?" He asked

"Because," Mal said, the barest glimmer of frustration wearing through the patience in her voice.

"It's like we've been telling you since we got here- we need to be armed within the walls," Interjected Vix. "The people here- all of them, not just the ones that go out to scavenge- they need to be trained on how to defend themselves properly. You haven't been out there, and there's no amount of stories I could tell to make you understand why I feel like I need this gun. We're not doin' this out of some selfish desire to take over this place, Gregory. This is for protect of my people, your people, and to find out the person stealing and killing kids. I and all of us, can't just let all of it go because we're here."

Captain Strunk and Dylan gazed up at Vix, seeming to consider her words. Mal held her breath, praying that by some small mercy she'd understand. Vix's face was open, imploring- fierce, but utterly sincere.

"Dad..." Dylan started sorrowfully, "If you hadn't taken that gun, Dad would still be here."

Mal looked pained. "I know. I know that, and believe me, if I could go back and do it different, I would. But I'd still take the gun. Perry needed to die. I know you saw that. And not just because of Reg- if he hadn't been stopped, he would have killed Jessie. Would have moved on to the kids, created two sad, unstable boys- if he didn't kill them, too. Men like him? They don't belong in this world anymore. There's no place for them. He didn't stop after Reg died, and he wouldn't have stopped after Jessie died, either."

"No. I don't agree to that. You kids are putting me in a difficult position."

"I don't," Tom argued. "This can be taken as a lesson to everyone involved- there are times when violence is necessary, when killing is necessary. The people here don't understand that- but you do now. You saw it, you asked me to do it. This place is going to change, Gregory. You said you wanted it to grow, and this is the beginning of that. We're going to get stronger here, and we can't do that by pretending that the only threat to us is the dead. From what I've seen, people are the real monsters. They always have been."

Gregory scoffed. "Are you really listen to a bunch of murders. They are from Negan, you know what he did to us before-"

"Before, Gregory!" Dylan spat. "We," He mused. "You want to protect this community, Gregory. I see that. I may not always agree with how you want to do it, but I see this for what it was- you protecting your own. Mal defended Jessie like she was one of your own people. My father had to work his butt off while you did nothing, kept half the ration dollars to yourself. My dad died because of you, Mayor!"

Mal wasn't expecting Dylan to react this way. She thought he would be mad at Mal for being the cause of his fathers death. Guess not a lot of people are happy with Gregory.

"Dylan, Mal and these _Saviors_ are the causes. Tomorrow morning, I'll banish you all out of these walls. I will not-"

A solid fist from Vix clocked Gregory's jaw, he slips over his feet in complete shock.

" _Gregory_ , That's enough! I know you lying about something. You wanted us gone because we are the Saviors. Yes, Negan done one thing bad but everyone knew the reason he went harsh on you. Because, like today, someone is working on the KillGames and stealing kids from their homes. I'm done with your bullshit, and we'll report this to Negan and bring him straight to Fairview."

Gregory eyes bulged to Negan's name. _Oh, you better fear him_ , Mal smirked. ' _Cause Negan will be knocking down those walls._

-:-:-:-:-

The three of them left shortly after Dylan did, cautiously stepping out into the street to help with the burial. Kirsh carried Reg's sheet-wrapped body to the small cemetery beside the church, a single grave having already been dug. By this time there's a funeral, from Dylan's family, a few people in the town, and Tom stood way behind the crowd. After the end of the funeral Jessie, John, and Kirsh were noticeably absent from the proceedings. Mal blinked at Dylan, confused. "There's only one grave."

"We don't bury murderers here." He answered simply, and Mal understood that- he didn't want the reminder of Perry lingering when she wanted to visit his father's grave.

"So where are you burying Perry?" Mal asked.

Captain Strunk shrugged. "Beyond the wall."

Mal bit her lip, remembering John's ashen face and Jessie and Kirsh's tears. She didn't want Perry's body within the walls, either, but it seemed almost cruel to dispose of him without consulting his family.

"We should ask Jessie," Vix said quietly from beside her. "We should let her choose. Give her the option of burying him here- not in the cemetery," she amended, seeing the disgust on both Dylan face. "Just within the walls. She has a backyard. She may not want him here, but we need to give her and her brothers the option. It's not about respecting Perry- it's about respecting them. They've been through a lot, and dumping his body without telling them could just make it worse. They're grieving."

"They're grieving a sick bastard," Max muttered as they watched Reg's body be lowered into the ground.

"Language. And you're right," She said finally, "You're right. We'll ask them. Give them the option, at least."

"Not you," Vix said. "You're probably not who they need to see right now. I'll ask. I'll talk to her."

After Reg's funeral, Vix grabbing Tom and heading off to talk to Jessie. Max lingered by Mal's side, and she turns to see a blood-lust of John angrily staring down at Mal and Max. She had a bad feeling the kid will do something reckless and terrible.

"Max, I want you to be careful of John." She whispered closely to his ear.

"Why?"

"The kid may have been abused but it was his father, and he's pissed off. He wants revenge and seeing I took a gun, he knows he can too. He'll hurt you or the others to hurt me. So watch out for him."

He nodded sadly. "Ok. His dad was an asshole, though. And he knows it. I'm pretty sure Perry was hitting him, too. I didn't think much about it, but I saw him with bruises a couple times, and he couldn't raise one of his arms without looking like he was in pain." He frowned, his eyes troubled. "I don't know why I didn't think... I just... I never thought it could be that, you know? We have bruises and stuff all the time, being out there. I just got so used to seeing people hurt that I didn't even think that something could actually be wrong-"

Mal softened, pulling him into her chest and running a hand over his tuffs of hair under his hat. "Hey, hey. Max look at me." He did, reluctantly lifting his head, and Mal saw guilt flickering there. "You don't need to be sorry, okay? You couldn't have known. And it's over now. Perry's not gonna be hurting anyone anymore."

Max breathed deeply, calming himself down. "Yeah. I know." He hugged Mal back for a second before stepping away. "I'm gonna go to bed. Thanks, Mal. I'm glad that you... I'm just glad that you're my friend, my family. That I have all of you. That I have you."

Mal smiled, soft and a little sad. "I'm glad I have you too, Max."


	38. Chapter 35

Negan leans back in his chair, being sure to make himself more comfortable in case he had to be sitting for a while. He got some information on the RK's about some suspects, but he rather make a charge into it and see who's the prick that started this. It's been two weeks, and he worried about Mal being Fairview too long. Sure she is with Tom, an old friend of Negan back before the Black Night. However whenever Alec is not talking to Lugh- more like sexting on the radio to Negan's opinion- she talks to him about her problems. He felt guilty on how alone she is.

He smiled back when he met Tom before and seeing him alive. There in a weird turn, was a small girl with a blonde ponytail and baby blue eyes. The little girl was Mal, eleven years old. It was shocking that Negan met her before, as a such a adorable kid to the woman she is now.

Pausing his eyes went wide. "Oh wow. I'm a fucking creep." Negan laughs outward at his own foolishness. As his laughter grinds to a halt, he sighs. Does he miss that beautiful, badass, cock-biting serial killer.

He wants her again.

The walkie sitting on Negan's desk, pre-set to the private channel, sounds off. Smirking he pressed the button to listen in what he hears next was the last thing he was expecting. Mal's cracked and muffled voice coming over the receiver. It was the girl's sobs that he noticed first before the sound of her panicked hiccupping was even heard.

"Alec?" Negan's voice catches before stopping himself, regrettably, he bites his lip. Alec stammers to answer on the other end, clearly the man had been preoccupied with other things. Negan rolls his eyes at this, hearing his right hand man's shaky voice. "You called? I'm here."

"Alec, I have a few assumptions on who are the ones, but..."

"What's wrong?" Alec's voice was filled with worry. Negan smiled slightly at his support for Mal.

Mal whimpers. "I'm such a fucked up girl, a monster. I did something today and I killed person for stupid actions!"

Negan almost falls out of his chair, sitting up straight. Alec's more than worried tone didn't help now. "Shit. Can you explain what happened?" Both older men could heard the sudden break in the poor teen's voice, almost as if something inside had finally cracked.

Mal couldn't hold back her tears any longer and begun to cry when the realization of all that had happened that day came flooding all at once mixed with everything that had happened since she had become separated from Negan.

"I... thought about..."

He sighs, shushing the teen the best he could manage. "Hey, hey it's alright, okay? Just tell me what happened and I'll deal with it, alright? Its gonna be okay."

Mal could be heard whimpering again, Negan's heart retched in his chest. "I... I already had to deal with it, I've been dealing with it all this time since Negan got me back, but... I couldn't take it anymore. When Perry showed him as a abuser, I kept thinking on-" Alec could do nothing to stop Mal's rant. "I seen _him_ in Perry. I thought if I kill him, it's my peace with... fuck."

"Mal, please calm down!"

"I can't fucking calm down. I've done so much, I'm a murder. A monster. And I kill for stupid revenge."

Negan clutches his fist. This had become too much to bare, he had longed for the day that Mal would finally confide in her what had happened in her past, but not like this. He sneers, Alec didn't deserve to have that right.

"Mal-"

Negan nearly breaks the walkie, pressing the button. " _Alec fuck off_ , I've got this!"

Fumbling, Alec shuts off his walkie. Mal shivers, her eyes going wide to hear to low familiar voice that she hasn't hear for so long. So many emotions swirled in a mix she can't pick out on what she's feeling now. "H-How long have you..."

Negan sighs. "That doesn't matter-"

"Of course it fucking matters. How long were you just going to sit there and say nothing?"

"Well, obviously not to fucking long if I'm saying something right the fuck now." Mal struggles to stifle her chocked sobs, but it doesn't work.

"Fuck you. Does this make you happy to listen to me complain and cry? You're such a fucking asshole."

Negan now felt like a tremendous ass bucket, he lowers his voice. "Hey. Look, I'm sorry okay, I didn't mean to yell at ya. Mal please, we haven't spoken to each other in for-fuck-me-ever and it's taken you even longer to tell me what..." Negan didn't want to finish that sentence, thankfully Mal did it for him.

"What happened today."

Negan nods as she were right in front of her. "Yeah, Mal please."

Another struggled sigh could be heard before the teen spoke.

"Why do you care? You punished me and now you want to listen."

"Yes I care for you. I'm here and you can trust me. When have I ever hurt you? Name one time."

"First fighting each other then pushing me against a wall, threatening me-"

"You knew you fucking deserved that shit. Don't even try to lie, serial killer." Mal chuckles softly, wiping her eyes, but they fill back up with tears mere seconds later.

"I hate this place. They stay in these houses, behind these walls like nothing, every one is working on the KillGames, and the night-" She gasped, taking a deep breath.

Negan bits his lip, his stomach making sick sounds. "You're having nightmares again?" He could see in his mind of Mal nodding her head, her teeth biting hard on her bottom lip to stop quivering. "I'm sorry I was an asshole. The reason you're having nightmares because of my fuckin' fault."

"Maybe. But everything reminds me of _him_ , of Charlie. Perry was an example, fair and square."

"Mal. What happened today?" The other line goes quiet. "Please, just tell me, start from the beginning if it's too hard for you."

She told every day that went by as she remembers it all. The day she came over, happy to see familiar faces but the frustration of hearing Lalon and Lugh impersonating Negan towards Mal as she was pissed and barked at them. She counters on meeting with Gregory- the prick- the Motor Hammer, Sam and his friends, the whole town, and then Perry. Recalling how he abused his family, most to the daughter Jessie, and Mal stepped up. Reason she did was two things; one is to save Jessie before he kills her and goes after the boys without anyone to protect them. And second, simple to her, Mal wanted to release the grudge, the fury, the pain on Perry as an example of Charlie. Negan saved her, but she wanted to kill him. She rather been the one to smash his skull to pieces, to chain him up as he rips and tears every single flesh and bone on his body. Therefore, Mal explains to kill Perry and describing the fight, being thrown out of a window and punching and almost choking her-

"Wait, wait. Hold the whole motherfucking-three-ringed-cock show here. This bag of dicks and ass fucking, tried to kill you?"

Mal couldn't reply fast enough. "Are you fucking okay? Did he hurt you?" Mal smiles faintly, it was almost too comforting to hear his worried about her again.

"No I..." Mal looks herself over a mirror in her spare room. Where her face is only bruised, nothing had too much damage.

She sighs happily thinking. "Nothing but bruises and small cuts. So, I killed him and Gregory wanted to kick us out. But Vix stood her ground, clocking Gregory's ass down as she ordering him, Tom, and Captain Strunk to make changes of this place, and search on every person."

Negan heaves a sigh. "At least you're ok."

Mal lays on her bed, smiling softly. "... I miss this."

"I miss you, too." Negan sighs, running his hand through his hair. "Shit, I'm so fucking sorry of doing this to you."

Mal cuts him off, knowing she needs let him hear her. "No, Negan. You were right. I never learned to follow people, people look at me and I have to do things that are right to me. When it was just us, the RK's we depended on each other and as we came to the Tradepost, I had to be the responsible one. Did everything to protect them no matter what. I killed Dwayne for pleasure revenge and not think about the communities resource."

"Well, baby. I think you've learned your punishment. You know what, tomorrow morning I'm coming over to inspect in Fairview for some goods news, and you can come back with me."

Confused, she stared at the absent floor. " _What_?"

"You heard me. It's been two weeks, your punishment is done. It's your choice to come back to the Sanctuary. Your friends and kids can as well. But it's your choice."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Whatever makes you feel home."

"Then yes, I want to go home."

"Fuck yeah, you do. Must feel like a horror show in that sunny side neighborhood town."

Mal snorted and rolled over to grope for the clock on the nightstand, cringing at the painful twinge that accompanied the stretch. "Gotta do my patrol at some point." She watch read just past eight.

"You're not going to sleep?" He asked curiously, his concerned tone warmed her chest.

"I will. Stop telling me this, you're not my Daddy."

Negan laughs deeply in a smirk. " _Oh_ , yes I'm your _Daddy_."

"Shut up, Negan." She giggles. "See you tomorrow."

"I'll be seeing you too."

"Goodnight, old man."

"I'm not old you little shit. Goodnight."

She turns off her radio, her smile widen from ear to ear. Back at the Sanctuary Negan is truly happy now Mal and Negan are back as friends. Hopefully, he can say more to her, confess what he truly cares of Mal.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal left for patrol while Tom stayed over with Vix to discuss on Gregory. Sam stayed for a bit with Dylan, comforting him as possible as he could before Clay comes over to hug him that eventually let himself break down and have someone there.

Putting his undershirt and pajama bottoms and heading to grab a snack, he heard footsteps on the back porch and a second later, the doorknob turned. Sam went and twisted around to see out the window, but all he could see was a flap of something glistening in the dark.

The doorknob turned again and again.

_Did Tom forget to bring his keys?_

Sam shot to his feet and threw open the locks, undoing the four heavy dead bolts. Sam yanked the door open.

Ton staggered inside. Head bowed, his shirt torn and hanging in shreds, dark hair dripping with water.

Sam backed away.

It wasn't Tom.

It was Andiron Sachet, the erosion artist.

He was a Runner.


	39. Chapter 36

The creature lifted its white face to Sam and opened its mouth. Blood ran over the artist's broken teeth and dripped onto the front of the shirt.

"Mr. Sachet...?"

It nearly broke Sam's heart. To see the hush of the person and to know that what had made him human was... gone. Sam felt like his head would break if he tried to hold that truth inside.

The Runner stepped toward Sam, reaching with its broken fingers, and still Sam was frozen into the moment, rooted to the dirt kitchen floor.

Then the Runner sprinted and screamed.

It was terror and it was rage. The terror was for what was reaching for him- this dead and shambling thing; and the rage was for what had been taken from him- a friend, a person he knew.

Sam back-pedaled away from those clutching fingers, his feet slipping and sliding on the floor until his back struck the edge of the doorway that led to the middle room. The impact galvanized him and he spun off the frame and bolted toward the living room. He crashed into a small table and then flung it behind him, not bothering to look as he heard it crack against the Runner's shins. The monster fell over it, and Sam heard the thump of kneecaps and elbows on the hardwood, but no cry of pain.

He burst into the living room and dove for the bag of training equipment in the kitchen- the best weapons were knives, hammers, a toolbox. He grabbed the hammer. They would have to do. Sam turned as Sachet lumbered into the living room. The monster then charges in a shambling sprint, moaning and twitching abnormal.

Fingers brushed his hair and tried to grab hold, but Sam threw himself over the couch. Sam rammed the tip of the hammer against the Runner's shin. The impact had all of his leg fall over. It recovers fast as the Runner lurched toward him again and began clambering over the couch.

Sam jumped to his feet and backed away, and as he did so, he took the handle of the hammer, raising one arm.

The Runner pulls viciously, reached for him.

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

And he brought the hammer down on the top of the artist's head.

The creature did not stop.

Sam hit him again and again.

And again.

His arms rose and fell, rose and fell, slamming the hard wood down on the Runner's skull. Sam could hear screams as he struck. Not the Runner's. they were his own.

"STOP!"

Tom's shout cut through the air, and Sam froze in place, the hammer raised high, his hands slick with blood and brain matter. Sam turned his head to see Ton standing in the doorway.

"Sam," Tom said, "it's over." He reached up to take hold of the hammer. "Are you hurt. Did he...?"

"Bite me? No. He didn't. What happened?" Sam asked thickly, "Mr. Sachet... Infected got to him, the bite on his neck, but-"

"Look at his fingers. Tell me what you see."

Sam didn't have to look. He already noticed how grotesquely crooked the artist's hand had been.

"Someone did that to him," Sam said. "While he was alive."

Tom nodded. "His ribs are bruised, too, and it looks like someone knocked some of his teeth out, broke a couple others. Someone tortured him to death, Sam. And he was forced to be bit by an Infected. And when he reanimated as a Runner, he was brought here."

Sam realized at Tom with cold and dangerous eyes.

"Someone was trying to kill us."

And then there were screaming beginning. Soon after, there was a crack of what sounds like a huge thunder that was the loudest sound Sam had ever heard, and the sound was so familiar to Sam.

The sound was a explosion.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal watched a she went several paces down the backyards of each house to try and catch what was going on over the shadows behind the light in the wall and a house.

She crept closer when she hears muffling, and a child then screams for help before the voice is cut off.

Mal pulled out her gun and reached over the commotion.

"Drop your weapons."

Two Calvary Boys; Ryes is one who's holding a kid up by his shoulder. Four kids are bound to their wrist, a cloth on their mouths, wide beaded scared in tears.

"I think it's you should drop your weapon." Ryes smirked, mimicking like Calvin's'.

"Ain't gonna happen," Mal snapped. "You let go of the children, now."

Then something big and dark moved out of the shadow, and the kids looked up in horror.

Motor Hammer stood there above them. He held a pistol in one hand, and the barrel was pouting straight at Mal's face.

"Well, I'll be a one-eyed skunk," yelled Hammer so loud. "Move one muscle, little darlin' and I'll cut my losses and leave you. It'll be a shame not to have you alive."

"I knew you were one of them. Talking about Charlie as friends, I should of killed you at plain sight." Mal growled, the gun is getting heavy on her arm.

"Like you did with Perry. Girl, I ain't a killer-" Hammer began, but Mal made her move. She stuck her left hand with the colt out to the side, and Hammer's reflexes reacted before he could control them and his eyes flickered toward the movement. With lightening speed, Mal used her right to slap the pistol out of Hammer's hand. With one step she knocked his head to one side with a powerful punch and she kicks his chest. The shock didn't quite faze him as he recovers.

He punches Mal square in the face. The shock to Mal's cheek by the huge man buckled her knee's. He grabbed Mal by the hair, jerked her to her feet, and then buried an uppercut so hard into Mal's stomach that her whole body was lifted off the ground. Her entire abdomen seemed to folded around Hammer's massive fist and the impact drove all of the air out of the world.

Before she even gasp to take a mouthful of air, he lifts her by her legs and threw her against the wall. The slam impacted so much pain among the bruises. Mal fell, eyes bulging, face purling, gasping, capable only of making high-pitched squeaks as she fought to stand up and stop them escaping with the children.

"Leave her... We have to go before the herd is coming."

Then his radio speaks out, Calvin's voice coming out. "Get out now! Put some cadaverine, you'll have to pass through them. The guards are distracted by the fire."

Hammer and the Boys ran. Struggling weakly, she gets up and sprints slowly. She makes her way before she finds her normal breathing and runs. The gates close as Mal gets to the wall, slamming herself on the closed wall.

"FUCK!"

Mal climbs up the ladder of the guards peak; the guards are dead with their throats cut by Hammer killing them behind their backs. Once reaching the top made Mal too numb to say anything. What was truly terrifying... was how that cold moonlight reflected on the pale grey faces of the living dead.

On the hundreds of living dead.

They were everywhere, an army of lifeless killers that shambled and limped and twitched as they emerged from the utter blackness of the forest. They come walking, a few crawling, all of them moaning louder than the wind, and all were advancing steadily towards the solid wall, banging against it. Mal could not count the dead. They were coming.

She needs to call the people and warm them. A few guards were questioning before all their emotion went hysterical, saying we're dead and there's no way out. Mal wouldn't want to give up. There could be hundreds, no Runners.

"Tell everyone to stay in their houses!" Cried Mal in a fierce command. "The rest will draw them out to the Infected pit and take half. The rest will use weapons below, no firearms! GET THE SAVIORS, TOM, EVERYONE NOW! WE HAVE TO FIGHT THEM OFF!"

As she said it the men did there duties as she reached and called Negan on her radio.

In the Sanctuary, Negan sighs as he comes out of the shower and his bed all nice and remade with the fireplace steadily roaring, heating the room to just the right temperature that was needed to make the room perfect.

A pleasant smirk stretches across his face as he dry's his hair. A loud voice coming over the radio caught him off guard. "Negan?"

Grabbing the walkie to answer, he smirks hearing the familiar tone. "Hey, baby. You want a round two already? I already told you, you'll have wait till tomorrow-"

Mal groans cutting him off. "For fuck sakes, Negan. Now is not the time time for jokes. We need the Saviors help, Fairview is under attack by a herd of Infected!"

The man all but falls out of beds "WHAT!? WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?" Mal has to bring the walkie away from her ear to prevent herself from going deaf.

"Hammer is the one stealing the children, Gregory let him because he's a coward. He and the Calvary Boys left, killing the guards, and brought a herd of hundred of Infected! Some people can't fight it and I need them help to take them down. I don't know if there's more, but please Negan. Please-"

Out of the corner of the road, a glistening shine made Mal spot it. Unclear what the figure is holding before it aims at the wall, and the thing is a grenade launcher.

"Oh shi-"

 _BOOM_!

The fire explodes the wall, and Mal fell back on the ground. The radio dies offline.

"Mal? Mal?!" Immediately Negan runs out to the main room where his right hand people and the people are.

When Negan gets there to the railings, every one of them instantly adverting their eyes. "The Fairview is under attack and there's a motherfucking herd coming in. You shit heads go and get anyone that you can find and get your own sorry asses in gear! Get the fucking trucks geared and running and tell Sheree to get the fucking car gassed and running! Go!"

One man with the gimp leg speaks out on what he's adverting his eyes from Negan. "Uhh boss umm..."

Negan raised a brow. "What? You boys never see a big, long, girthy dick before? Now fucking go before I molly whop all of y'all."

Without another word they leave to carry out the order. Quickly they spread out and Negan went back to put his pants in time. "Negan? What's going on?" Alec said and Negan sneers.

"The Hammer and Calvary Boys were the ones to steal the children. Fairview is attacked and there's a herd coming in. stations under attack!" Negan motions for his right hand to hand him his bat Ellie as he quickly worked to get his large leather jacket on.

Alec nods and does he was instructed. Negan grips his lady friend tight in his hold before turning his attention back to Alec. "Let's go get our damsels in distresses before they do something stupid."

-:-:-:-:-

Mal gets back up from the fall, the burning light burns her eyes in the dark. Then she crawls backward as the hundred of flesh-eating Infected enter the broken walls. Screams ignited people as she stands up, shooting one close to her.

"Back... Everyone get in inside your houses!" Cried Mal, retreating away from the herd. The army of dead followed under her tail. There's no way to distract them.

"Mal! Over here!" Cried Jessie with Tom shooting a few down. She charged over to the garage and once inside Tom slams the door closed.

 _Thump! Thump-thump!_ A herd of dead fist struck the window, rattling the door.

She looks to see Max trying to calm down AJ crying his eyes out. "Max? Where's the kids?" She nervously asks.

"They're with Lugh."

"Good," she nodded before she brings Tom upstairs. "We have to barricade the door and windows."

"What happened? How did the Infected get inside." Breathed Sam.

Tom and Mal moves a shelf over to the living window. "Hammer is the one stealing the children. He and the Calvary Boys took four children and had weapons to blow up the walls."

Little Kirsh began saying Jessie's name upstairs; he was so scared of the monsters that Jessie hasn't had the time to come over and calm him down now as she helps the others move furniture.

Max lend AJ to Jessie as he and John went to the garage to move stuff around the door and find weapons to use.

"I never seen so many of them," John worriedly.

"It's scary, but we can do this. We just don't want to use firearms or we'll draw more towards us."

But as the time he moves a cart he feels his holster where his gun is being taken away. Max noticed and withdrew himself away from John.

Something in John eye's was cold and murderous.

"I know my dad was abusive, but why did she had to kill him." He snapped so loud the Infected heard him.

Max stared at him in disbelief. "Okay," he glared at John. "He was your dad. But new flash, your dad was an asshole and Mal did the right thing to save yourself and your siblings."

John looked totally perplexed and suddenly he ran towards Max, banging his fist against Max's chest, and slammed him on the door. In the ensuring slam the Infected drew closer to the sound. Max holds his gun with John trying to tear it away from him. Soon, Max lets his left hand go and punches into his throat.

Max knew that Mal warned him, that he should hurt him, but he knew how angry John is, he should leave him alone but still watchful over him.

"You really going to kill me when there's this happening? Pick a better time, and when you do try to threaten me, kill me, I'll be ready and I certainly will kill you first."

John's face flashed in anger and embarrassment. Tears, as small as child's of diamond, glistened in the corners of his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak when the grey hands break the window door, bits of broken shards punctured their flesh and three fall against the door and break it open.

Pulling John up, he rushes them inside and yells the others about the Infected inside the house. In desperate measures, Sam, Mal, and Tom drag the white sofa towards the stairs with the others climbing back up. The Infected aren't far behind. A tall, thin as a stick, and grey as wax, with cloudy eyes and a gaping mouth lunged over, reaching for them, but didn't move on the couch as they finally got the couch to a certain point for the Infected to not cross over.

"Jessie," Kirsh said again and again, his voice rising to a hysterical pitch.

"Kirsh, it's okay. Just be strong for me."

Mal closed and locked the bedroom door. "It won't hold for long," she said quietly. "We're cornered if we stay here."

"Hundreds," said Sam. "There had to be three hundred of them just coming. It's insane."

It was insane.

Tom looked at the three carpet coats that hung from pegs by the door. He grabbed the coats to Jessie and her brothers. "Put these on! Mal-" She knew what Tom was thinking, ripping the bed sheets.

Jessie immediately slipped into hers, but Kirsh let his drop to the floor. Jessie picked it up and pressed it to him.

"Sweetie, put it on. This will stop the monster not get to you."

"But..." He whimpers, tears shedding down.

"Please, put it on."

Kirsh took it but did nothing with it, only clenched it in his arms. Jessie took it and put it on Kirsh the way a mother dresses a child.

"We have to get out of here slowly. We go to the artillery stash over a couple blocks away." Mal said as he cuts holes for the head. "We have to distract the herd away from the houses, buy us time to take a few. I called the Saviors to help."

"We have to buy some time then." Tom agreed.

That made Kirsh's face twitch. "We go to the monsters?"

Mal said, "Yes, Kirsh. They're coming from every direction. We're safer if we leave." Mal gets out to look down the stairs of the pile of Infected on top of now the dirty couch. Slashing the machete on one of the Infected, she pulls its lifeless body up to the room before starting to cut open the stomach.

"This is cut our scent off, way more trustful than the cadaverine."

Pulling out the intestines, she spreads over Jessie and her brothers first. All cringed at the smell, John didn't give one complaint, and Kirsh squirmed and whimpered as the blood and guts spread all over. Then she dunks the white sheets, giving them back to Tom, Sam, and Max. Once they put the sheets on, one more time of putting organs, cut fingers and toes around a wire strap and hang around their necks they are set.

Mal takes AJ and puts him under Max's arms and the sheet. At least he calmed down a bit, hopefully through the long walk.

"What if we get separated?" asked Sam.

There was only one answer to that question, and Mal's inner voice whispered it to her. _Anyone who gets lost in the dark... is dead_. Aloud she said, "we won't. Hold hands just to be safe."

She looks at everyone. "Ready?" She whispered. They all said there were. Tom opened the door.

A Infected stood there, arm raised to strike the door. He was broad-shouldered, his once brown skin bleached to the color of milky tea. Most of his face was gone, and gnawed edges of white bone jutted from the bloodless flesh. The creature took a shambling step forward. It did not sniff the air yet through whatever senses it did possess, the creature took the measure of steady Tom... and then shuffled past him into the room. For the moment it did not judge him as prey. He reeked of the dead, and the dead passed him by.

Tom stepped cautiously out as the herd come into the room, not caring about them. As Mal stepped out the doorway her shoe scuffled the floor, and the fat man turned sharply, grey lips pulling back from green teeth. The Infected snarled at Mal, then just as suddenly, the look of hunger and menace dropped away as if a curtain had fallen. Its dusty eyes slid away from Mal, followed by another Infected.

Holding her machete to her chest as if it was a magic charm, the slipped downstairs before slipping outside to the army of dead on the streets.

-:-:-:-:-

Vix kept shooting as much of the Infected as a few people are helping. She tries to pull the herd away from the house and turn them towards the other walls where they can go out as someone will drive them out from the community. Once a while, the people went away as more were coming, making Vix pissed off. As she pushes Gregory back, she counts in her chamber of bullets.

"Dammit. We need to distract the herd out the town."

Gregory trembles under his clean suit, hair mattered in sweat. "We're dead. This place is gone."

She slaps Gregory in the face, knocking his scared wists out of him. "Enough! We can-"

He slaps Vix so hard she actually fell over. He grabs her gun from the ground and ran away like a sneaky rotten rat he is.

She gets up to to see the man disappear in the dark. Something touched her should, and Vix screamed.

An Infected grabbed Vi's shoulder with its boney hand. Vix shrieked and swing her bow with all her force. The Infected's head exploded into pieces from its long-wasted decay and the creature fell away. Vix turned to see the crowd coming all of her corner.

Then she backed up where her back met a cold metal ladder to the guard wall. She whirled and climb fast up. She gets up before the Infected get close below her feet, knocking the ladder down. Vix looks down at the commotion of an army of Infected, their arms raised high up desperately, their mouths cried in hunger.

 _You're trapped_ , warned her inner voice. Her thoughts scrambled through her head as he thinks on ways to escape, but there's nothing good.

-:-:-:-:-

Lalon outran the herd.

He reached the top of the hill and cut left onto Mockingbird street, running towards the piercing scream of children.

That sound slapped Lalon as the herd are being drawn.

The screams were continuous. Lalon thought they were screams of fear, not of pain. There was a fragment of consolation of that. He cut right into Fairview, running abreast, his wooden spear clutched in sweaty hands.

Three houses stood at the end of a block of stores. He knew from coming here the Cohens on the left, the Matthias place on the right, and the Housers in the center. Townsfolk were clustered inside their houses.

Lalon went inside when Benny opened the door in the Matthias house. Inside, a few people were here, including the Housers. Most of them had axes, pitchforks, and long-handled shovels. Lalon saw at least four people with guns.

"What's going on?" Clary cried.

"Someone destroyed the wall. We can't stand here, we have to fight and distract them towards the other gate.

"Are you crazy?" Dylan breathed.

Benny nodded. "There's too many of them. We can't."

"Look, Tom trained you to defend and fight the dead, right," all nodded. "It's no different. Sure, there's too many of them. But if we work together, as a whole. The people, us, we can make this and win. It's scary, I know. Look at me, I'm shaking in my little boots."

Suddenly Benny caught movement to his right, leaving towards the kitchen and saw James Matthias looking at him. James had never exactly been a friend, but for the most part he and Benny had been able to get along. They were the same age and had been all through school and the Scouts together. They played on the same baseball team, wrestled in the same eight class, and even sometimes went fishing together if Dylan and Sam were busy.

In a strange way, he looked so lost and dead, pale.

The whole front of James's shirt glistened with bright red blood. There were bit marks all over his chest and shoulder, and his eyes were black.

Benny panicked. With a snarl of insatiable hunger, James lunged for Benny's throat.

Everything seemed to happen much too fast.

James grabbed the front of Benny's shirt with icy white fingers and pulled. Benny jammed his palms against James's chest just in time. James's teeth snapped together an inch from Benny's windpipe. Benny shirked in terror. James moaned in hunger and frustration.

"Benny! Down!"

Suddenly there was a flash of brown hardwood and a sound like a watermelon falling off a wagon onto wooden floor. James and Benny fell in opposite directions. Benny's head hit the floor again, harder. James pitched backward away from him, his face gone, replaced by an inhuman mask of blood and damaged tissue.

"Benny- Get up!"

His numb brain gave the voice a name. Lalon. And... he was yelling at him. Why was he yelling? He tried to ask him, but it came out as a mumble of soft nonsense words.

Then he was pulling at him. Shaking him.

He cranked open one eye. It was like lifting a hundred pounds of bricks.

"Good morning, Lalon," he said in a completely reasonable tone of voice.

Clary bends down beside him and slapped him across the face. Hard.

"Hey- OW!"

The slap cleared his battered brain, and he realized that Lalon and Clary were bending over him, whispered screams right in his face.

"INFECTED!"

That did it.

"Shh." Lalon shushed Benny, laughing at his brain snapping back to full awareness. As Lalon hauled him upright there was movement to his left, and Benny turned to see James getting up slowly to his feet, blood dripping from rubbery lips and ruined throat. The Infected turned his slack face toward Benny and screamed like a lost soul.

The family and people shambling back.

"Here!" He holds Benny his spear, wanting to let Benny get over the fear as James took a lumbering step towed him.

James was too close for a perfect swing, so Benny changed direction and hit him with the heavy handle of the wooden spear. The blow caught James on the point of his jaw, and the impact sent shocks up through Benny's wrists. James staggered backward.

Benny stared at the jagged hickory in his hands with the sharp blade in his hands, raised it high in a two-handed grip, and plunged it down at the base of James's skull. There is a narrow opening where the spine enters the skull. Tom called it the "sweet spot", and it was where the brain stem was most vulnerable. Sever that and the Runner was dead forever. Quieted.

He put everything he had into the blow.

A dozen people came up to check on the limp body, Lalon nodded to see Benny is capable to fight against the Infected- or a little bit.

"See?" He said to Benny. "You can do it. Just need to make some action of this huge problem we have."

"Oh my god!" One of the women gasped at what she sees the outside porch. Beyond to the fence line there's a circle of Infected reaching up high to a person on the fence stand, shaking a bit with the Infected moving it.

Lalon's heart drenched at who is was.

The person is Vix. Alone and trapped with Infected below her.

"I have to save her." He said in a fierce whisper.

People shouted Lalon many questions, barking on "being too dangerous", "there's too many", and "you'll die out there". Lalon knew the risk, he'll even sacrifice himself if he had too. He wants the herd away from Vix, the people can help him with their guns to draw them. Doubtful they had the guts to pull the trigger or move an inch. Vix's stand isn't holding as much and won't hold too long.

"I'll come with you," said Benny who taken a pitchfork from someone. He preferred a bow and arrow or crossbow since he's excellent it that weapon. There can't be debate about it.

"You sure?" He's too concern on Benny handling it.

"I need- I mean, she needs help, and I have to save her. Er... I mean-"

Lalon rolled his eyes then winked at him. "Got a crush on the girl."

"That's not what I meant!" He snapped. "I want to do something than just stand there. Tom wanted everyone to fight for themselves, to be "warrior smart". I don't want to be a coward, I always run away and be petrified. I want to help."

"Then be it. Warrior smart."

"Warrior smart."

-:-:-:-:-

Lugh peeked out the curtains. The glistened grey skin Infected in the dark shambled through the streets, wandering around aimlessly.

Killeen went around the empty house to searching any guns in the house, and not much. He grabs a pair of scissors and a mask of tape, and wrapped it around his pipe he broke off the kitchen sink. Lugh have his pistol to Rin while Johan notch an arrow in case of emergencies.

Johan looks at the window. "God..." she breathed.

"I never seen so many of them," said Rin. "Someone must of herd and took them here."

"It's the people working on the KillGames." Lugh growled in frustration to work on his radio. He hopes to call the Saviors and get the help they need in Fairview. However, it only made static noises.

Lugh felt horrible and helpless. People in the town are too scared to get out and do something, he can't call the Saviors, praying that Mal called the Saviors in a nick of time before the town is decimated.

"We need to pull the herd away from the town." Killeen suggested.

Lugh sighed and ran his hands over his brown dyed highlight blonde hair. "Maybe we can take a wagon from the horses and drive them out the other gate, give enough time for people to get out and kill a few off."

Rin thought about the RK's mentioning the Infected attracted to light. She looks at the generators that every town has for light, how some people think it is the right thing for God which is total crazy in her, everyone's opinion. The amount of gas in them, they could use it to light fire but where to distract them and burn a few off.

"What if we use the fuel in the generators and pick a spot for the Infected to follow."

Johan said, "She's right. When they are drawn to the fire, we can attack behind them. It's easy to do with no bites or attacks."

"What about this pond?" Killeen waved his hand around them and pointed out the window to the large pond where people go out fishing.

Lugh chewed his lip. "You guys are right. But how can we get so much has in that large pond?"

It's perfect, the kids had the greatest idea. It was a freakish moment, as if the kids are in charge just like the RK's all the time. He's proud, and his friends would be proud as well to see these kids. No older than thirteen years old, so young yet they're ready to become fearless survivors.

Lugh slung the cadaverine over his neck and poured a few on the kids and himself. They each used a full bottle. The inside of the house reeked as if it was stuffed to the rafters with rotting flesh.

"Weapons and fuel only," said Lugh, and Killeen gave him the gas canteen.

"Will it be enough?" Asked Johan, sharing a covert, worried look.

"Maybe, maybe not. We'll try, sneak careful and pour into the pond until it's good enough. If it doesn't work get back here immediately and wait."

Rin nodded and stuffed a wrench with her gun. Lugh grabbed carpet coats- lucky these people buy these everywhere. The coat protected their bodies and arms and had a high, stiff collar to shield the throat, but it was not a suit of armor. Even the fence guards said that enough Infected could eventually chew through one.

At the door, Lugh paused, took a deep breath, and turning back to look at the kids. Worried in their eyes but steady in stance, ready for whatever comes next. "We go slow. Don't fight unless you have to. Run only if you have to."

Lugh opens the door.


	40. Chapter 37

The line of them, hand to hand, went already thirty paces away, walking straight into the sea of shambling corpses. Max was much closer, his steps slower and uncertain. Max kept looking back for John. Mal never looked back at all- she kept going.

What made her turn was the constant call of Kirsh, calling Jessie's name countless of times. She looked at Tom if there is a way out. She wanted to move faster and faster, and soon they stop.

 _Move or die_ , growled her inner voice. Jessie bends down to shush Kirsh. "Sweetie," she said in a very quiet whisper. "We have to move."

He shook his head. "I can't... I can't." Kirsh sobs profoundly.

 _Please fucking move_.

They didn't... until he ran right into an Infected. The creature snarled and white fingers grab his face, and a wide mouth bites his left cheek off. He screams as more Infected rip his flesh, feel the edge of broke fingernails scratch him. Jessie cried, not letting go his hand as he's being eaten in front of her.

"Jessie, he's gone," Mal warned her. She tried to pull her, but the Infected are turning their way. Jessie felt the dry pads of dead fingers slide over her nose and mouth, and they went down to her shoulder, throat, and jaw. Both of them are piled by the flesh eating creatures. Max tries to pull the hard grip of Jessie hand holding on his wrist.

In an instant, Mal drew out her machete and slash her hand. Then again and again and the bone breaks, earning Max to tumble down. The Infected didn't notice the action of Max's fall or Mal chopping Jessie's hand when a gun is pointed at her, the hammer cocked. John's face is cold, tears continually shed. "It's your fault."

Out of nowhere, Sam used his knife and stab John through the throat, and before his death his finger squeezed the trigger.

She pushes Max and Sam towards with Tom as they duck under white hands, junked and dodged around Infected, Infected who tried to wrap their arms around her. The whole crowd of them was becoming agitated, their awareness drawn to the running meat. She tries to move as slow as she can, but also wants to get out fast. They weren't holding hands anymore, and Tom finds a way to get out of the crowd.

Suddenly Tom, Sam, Max with AJ under his sheet was nowhere in sight. Had they run out before Mal could catch up? Had the Infected gotten them? No... there would have been screams if they'd attacked them. Mal walked and moved disjointed lot, trying to imitate the artless shamble of the Infected so as not to attract more attention.

_Don't stop. Just find where they went._

She didn't... until she reached the edge if the concrete pad street by a couple of stores. From that angle she could see almost all the land around the walls. What she saw punched the air out of her lungs and nearly dropped her to her knees. There, in the thick of a seething mass of Infected- an army that numbered uncountable thousands- stood a tall figure with hair so faded by it's dark brown hair, bits of white in the tips, tall with broad shoulders. It was too far away to see his eyes, But Mal was sure- dead certain- that one would be brown and the other as red as flame.

The figure stared right at her. It was smiling.

The Infected shifted and shuffled around the figure. They did not attack him. They surged past him, heading in no direction. Then the sea of Infected closed around the figure, obscuring him from Mal's sight.

It didn't matter. Mal had seen it.

Seen him.

"No..." she whispered to herself. "No." She shakes her head, not believing what's seeing. " _No, no no no no_."

She turned and ran. Not walked, not shuffled like a Infected. Mal ran for all she was worth. She ran for her life towards the figure, slashing with her machete in a fuel of utter rage and desperation of finding the figure and kill him off with so much force and release of herself, not caring if she gets bit. She finds herself on a little cliff where it wide open, barely any Infected are around her. As she stopped she searches for the eyes that she could feel upon her, burning like cold fire into her back. _God! Where is he? I need to him now_! Mal thought she heard a sound threaded through the moan of the hundreds of walking dead. She thought she heard the deep, rumbling, mocking laughter of the man she was positive she had just seen standing amid an army of the dead.

Charlie Pink-eye.

She scrambled and collided into Infected.

Mal whirled and looked into the four faces of blood-smeared and decay face.

With insatiable snarls, the Infected lunged and tumbled over Mal.

-:-:-:-:-

Moving in ultra quick-motion, Lalon takes a hold of his gun before Benny is behind. Suddenly he finds Lugh and the kids covered in cadaverine.

"Glad you're alive."

"Don't say it like that." Killeen hissed. "Trying to gather enough gas to pour in the pond and light it up-"

"To distract the Infected." Johan finishes.

"That's good. Me and Benny are going to save Vix." He points at Vix who's up alone with the huge crowd of Infected below the stand. As the Infected came closer, the stand shakes more.

God, is he really gonna do this? Lalon almost screamed it aloud, but he clamped his control into place. He nodded, on the truth it's the only way. One wild idea after another flashed trough his mind and all end the same results. Brash heroics, a suicidal charge... consider it everything.

Lalon orders Lugh and Benny get Vix out of there before he ran up, breezing the teens away.

Aiming the pistol up in the air, he shot a bullet then aimed at the Infected turning and facing Lalon.

"Over here! You want some? Come and get it."

He took one hand by the spear and the other with the gun. The Infected shambled towards Lalon as Lugh and Sam went where the Infected are all go. Moving with infinite slowness, he takes a couple shot as they come closer to him, and he sees beyond their grey faces the ladder pulled up.

The Infected didn't stop. He could ran away, but a few come towards the ladder. Shooting the ones going back to the ladder, he squeezes and it clicks.

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

Throwing the empty gun, then places both hands on the spear. He focused on the herd. There was no time to escape; he's cornered. But he's doing it to save his friend. He smiled, knowing that they'll be sad for him. He smiled to see what he's done and happy to be with awesome friends throughout his life, and the kids growing up to become fearless warriors. Fifty of white faces had their awful moans at him. Two closed on him and he strikes with his spear in a quick slice. Another came and he kicked with all his force, catching the closet Infected with a flat-footed thrust to the thigh that sent it lurching away.

Above the stand, Vix see's the herd wandering away. She whirled to see Lugh and Benny climb up the ladder before she tore herself away from them to stare at the hopeless Lalon.

"What's he doing?" Vix said it out loud, her lips quivering in fear. "We have to help him."

"He left and... I don't know if we can." Lugh takes a hold of Vix but she brushed it off. Vix reached under and banged her hand against the wood, screaming her lungs out.

"Over here! Come here!" The abruptness of her desperate scream didn't made any creature twitch and turn around. They all focused on Lalon.

There's so many, many more were entirely focused on Lalon. He fought tirelessly, she couldn't do anything. Vix, the kids, and everyone tries their best but they stared at the full horror of the herd cornering Lalon. Up in the stand, the Infected are now overtop of him, and everyone can't see him standing anymore, not wanting to hear the cries of his war cries and then... other screams.

"LALON!" Vix's sobbed in a piercing cry of now losing her long-time friend.

Within seconds a half-dozen Infected dropped from an artillery of bullets. Lalon stood up in shock, covered in tar blood. It took him, all of them a numb second to understand how the Infected are all killed, and then they realized who did it. And Lalon laughed hysterically.

Negan and the band of Saviors rapid their firearms at all the Infected, and Negan and Alec jump out of the truck towards Vix, Benny, and Lugh.

Then Lalon drew his spear and swung with all the force he possessed, hitting a half burnt Infected in the side f the neck so hard that he felt the shock through his wrist as the creature's neck snapped. The Infected fell and he ran up to the Saviors.

Negan swung his bat at one Infected and its head exploded, the base of his face flattened. His face is concerned and his eyes were wild.

"Where's Mal?" He yelled.

"I don't know. God- there's many of them."

"We have to draw the fuckers away." Alec insisted, reloading his crossbow.

"We thought about using the gas on the pond and inflame it." Rin said.

"Then let's light up the fucker. Alec, burn this shit down. Everyone get out and take the Infected down. You guys come with me in a circle!" Negan ordered.

Alec drives the truck, backing it up before opening the huge canteen of gasoline into the pond. He grabs the rocket launcher from Bud's hands. He prayed with all his might that this will work. With a squeeze of the trigger and the rocket shot into the water.

Flames exploded like a giant candle. They ran towards Negan and the band. The Infected were drawn to the massive flames, and they followed the big fire. Once there, the people went behind their heads to attack them. More and more went in the water and caught them on fire. The Infected weren't beat by the flames, they did not scream.

With the whole group of Saviors and the RK's they gathered together to attack behind the Infected, not caring what's behind them. Within this Tom and Sam come out to help, shooting the dead heads.

"Where's Mal?!" Negan screeched.

"I don't know. We had her then she disappeared!" He yelled through the loud commotion of gunfire and moans.

Negan's heart pounded like fists on all sides, and his air became too hot to breathe. In full rampage swung the creatures non-stop, needlessly thinking on finding Mal. He can't think of her being dead, it kills him in an instant. Without a doubt, people stared out the windows to see the Saviors coming to help through the street and the pond on fire. They glance at each other, and a few come outside to stand off the herd. The Saviors, Fairview, and the RK's together in stance fight off the living dead, claiming back the community, and taking up a stand for the people on the KillGames thinking this place can be destroyed by them.

-:-:-:-:-

Everyone was exhausted. The town is crumpled with dead bodies of Infected, a dark smoke fading away by the dwindled fire.

Now that the fire was fading, the sunning sky was less intensely red. When all was done, the Saviors put the gates back up; Fairview starts to work on rebuilding the gate, and as the other search for any loose Infected and finding people they have loss.

Negan searched hard through the streets of Fairview to find Mal- alive, he wants to find her alive and if not, end her in mercy and not like what he did with his wife. Ellie's chains and mending were heavily tarnished with Infected guts and brain matter, and as the adrenaline began to wear off, she suddenly felt too heavy in his aching hand.

He wasn't prepared for it. He didn't think he'd ever be ready to see Mal laying still and bloody on the ground or shuffling as a Runner. He tries to not think about it. Suddenly he made a noise at the sight of him- something shock and a relieving gasp.

Mal sits there, so tired and unfazed in her surroundings, her eyes are cold and dead, and her leather jacket is wet of the black blood. He ran straight towards her, and Mal saw Negan running. She couldn't believe he is there in front of her. It's been a while she's seen Negan, her heart warmed that he came for her. Once she gets up, Negan immediately threw himself, wrapping his arms tightly around Mal.

When the sobs came ripping out of him, guttural and broken, Mal realized that his face had already been wet. Mal couldn't believe Negan is crying for her, she felt so hurt on seeing him broke for the first time. " _Don't ever leave me._ You fucking scared me, Mal. Never do that again, baby girl. Please, don't." He pleads against her shoulder.

Mal wraps an arm on his head, petting him. "I won't, Negan."

She lied. She has to leave and find out what she'd seen.

She holds him to remember his warm inside his leather jacket, his face covered in his silver beard, and the hazel eyes.

She has to find Charlie and kill him as possible.


	41. Chapter 38

The rest of the morning Mal was quiet. She stood inside Gregory's house as they discuss the issues towards Gregory's fault. Hammer was let in and took four children, and the rest. Even though Mal is shutting herself down from everyone else she could her the freighting yells from Negan, threatening them dangerous with Tom to calm him down. Afterward she hears bits and pieces on what to do next, to find the area of the KillGames. They'll be going tomorrow or two days later and set out in the mountains.

Negan had planned the trip very carefully, or at leader carefully as a journey through largely unknown territory can be planned. There was a a few rest stops along the way, places Tom called "safe houses." The first was Brother David's way station, and the next was an old hotel called Wawona.

"If anything weird happens and we get separated," Tom said. "We head there for a break."

"Could, but since rumors are spread that the rebuilt KillGames are close around the area. We go to Wawona and check if it's there and burn the fucker down. If not, group up and scout around."

Wawona was likely to be the safest place along the route. Before Black Night, the small town had been home to about 160 permanent residents and a few thousand campers during the tourist seasons. The only survivors who used to be there were a grizzled old forest ranger, his two young nephews, and a couple of women a scientist visiting from the San Diego Zoo. The ranger still lived up there, and he was often referred in the Famous Infected Card, the Greenman. The others had gone to live in the towns. Apparently the ranger had become something of a deep-woods mystic.

Nowadays the old Wawona Hotel was a traveler's rest and temporary storehouse for scavenger goods, and there were always a dozen people at the hotel. Rumor had it that a fire-and-brimstone evangelist named Preacher Jack had taken up residence as well. He was happy to share his version of the word of God with everyone who passed through, and was even reputed to have tried to convert and baptize some Infected.

Mal didn't like how people barely knew little of Preacher Jack, but that wasn't her main concern. She listened, but wasn't with them. She kept going on with the imagine of Charlie. Charlie, smiling at her, his red eye gleaming at her tauntingly, and his army of Infected wonder and not care about him. Mal was very clearly a ball of nerves as she waited on the plan on going to find the KillGames and finish it once and for all. She stood fitfully, and Mal could feel Negan eyes on her as he watched her suddenly sneak off. She can't handle of staying much longer; her thoughts were violent and with this vengeance, she will never let Charlie slip by her alive.

Mal went back to Tom's house to back everything in her pack she needed for tonight, leaving the Fairview and into the Ruins. A canteen of fresh water, canned food, snare and wires, rope, ammunition and a tarp. She tense when she wrote a letter to everyone to read this, about leaving and met them at Brother David's way station then leave to Wawona for reason. Her last letter goes mainly to Negan- he only reads it- and tells him why she'd left without notice, seeing the man who turned her into someone she hates, the pain and torment through the year, and she will find him and finish him like Negan used too to save Mal. She finished Negan's note in a hard notion, fingers clenching to calm her emotions. When she came back from the infirmary of a .25-06 rifle, she notice her colt gun is gone. She remembered leaving it on the kitchen counter; where the hell did she left it.

Checking every door and room, she found nothing when she opened the spare room. Negan laid on the bed, and when the door opens he had a gleeful smile, raising both hands up like he surprised her. And in one hand he has her gun.

"Surprise." Negan said.

"Ah, _shit_." Mal breathed, turning away as he comes towards her.

"Little birdie told me you're packing a lot of stuff. Getting ready for something, baby?" He raised his eyebrows, slowly licking his lip.

"Give me my gun." She said under her teeth. She didn't have the time for this.

"Not until you tell what's going on."

"Fuck it. I have a rifle anyway" Mal ground out, pushing Negan out of the door frame.

"What?" Negan asked. "Mal? Wait the fuck up."

"Just go." She spat.

"No, I'm not. Mal? Mal?!" He follows Mal down the steps, not too far from her.

"Please leave me alone."

"I'm not going to leave you alone with your dumbass teenaged shit. Mal?" His anger then burst out as soon she grabs her bag. "For fuck sakes, _MAL FUCKIN' MALENIE STOP_!"

Mal jerked at Negan calling her full name in such serious and threatening tone. Negan regretted on screaming her head off, she doesn't need Negan to be a dick to her now. "Please," he pleaded. Mal turns to look at him. Soft brown eyes met her own, the sorrow in them burnt at the anger inside of him, melting it away. "What's going on, Mal?"

"I... don't know if I'm losing my mind and saying this to you, you'll think I'm crazy. I always had nightmares, they've come back and I know it's not real. Last night when I pass through the herd, I saw something- someone. Seeing him felt so real. I know for goddamn sure I wasn't asleep or imagining things. But... Christ... I can't believe it. He's out there, smiled at me, laughing at me, and I can't stand it. I don't know how he's alive. I can take all the beatings, the rapes, the stupid fuckin' comments, but I could not take on him being somewhat alive." Her voice trembled over the last words, her rising emotions getting the better of her as she thought about him being still alive and the one running the KillGames. "I saw him. I... s-saw Charlie. I saw Charlie."

"Oh, Mal..." Words just weren't enough, not now. He leaned forward placing a soft, lingering hand around her back and wrap himself around Mal. Taking a moment to just exist with the man, forget the horrors of the night. Mal leans on his chest, eyes closed, her ear hearing his steady heartbeat.

"I believe you, Mal. But promise me this. You stay with me when we get to the way station. You can go off into your badassness, but you fuckin' promise to come back, and stay with me until the end." He leaned into her, enjoying the scent in her hair. "I'll let you kill Charlie, alive or undead, but promise me, Mal. It killed me to ever lose you. Swear to me."

Mal opened her eyes to the world.

"Okay."

He lets her go, brushing a strand of hair on her ear before giving him a small kiss on her forehead. He leaves to attend on dealing with Gregory as Mal drops her back on the floor.

She then grabs the letters and threw them into the fireplace.

She'll keep her promise to Negan.


	42. Part 4: Highway to Hell

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

_"Little gal's faster with a pigsticker."_

_The_ **_stranger_ ** _seemed to have stepped out of nowhere and was in the gap between a game trail that vanished into the shadowy woods. He was a tall broad-shoulder man but very thin man in a dusty black coat and wide-brimmed black hat. Long_ **_white hair hung_ ** _like strands of spiderweb from under the brim of his hat, and he wore a_ **_smile_ ** _that_ **_twitched_ ** _and_ **_writhed_ ** _on his thin lips like works on a hot griddle._

_"My, my, my," said the man softly, his smile never wavering, "ain't we in a pickle?"_

_Instantly Tom pivoted, slapped the_ **_knife_ ** _away from his throat, spun like a dancer, and swung the blade in a lighting-fast circle that stopped a hairbreadth from the man's nose._

_"Let's call it one-all and say the_ **_rest of the game_ ** _was rained out," suggested the stranger. Without waiting to see if Tom and Negan agreed, the man rolled the handle of his knife through his fingers like a magician and slid the ten-inch blade into a sheath that hung from his belt._

_"Okay," said Mal, still holding her gun out, "_ **_who are you_ ** _?"_

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~


	43. Chapter 39

Negan and the Saviors stayed over at Gregory's house. Sitting at the long table, they stare down at the nervous man, fiddling with his collar. Negan held Ellie in his hands, caressing her her softly.

"Well, I... uh-" he coughs his throat before speaking. "I'd just like to start by saying thank you for helping is with the herd. This is something amazing. And helping on building the gates back up. Impressive."

No one cared about his smile. Vix rolled her eyes as she sat comfortable beside Negan.

"You already said that about the gates, so why don't you go on Gregory?" Bud said, waving a hand toward the boss.

Exhaling, he said, "Negan, let me lay this down straight for you. I know how it is, negotiating the slippery, steep terrain of managing resources and the population, and the big, scary you. But you might know, it's called the unknown."

Gregory's point is confusing, he doesn't know what he's saying. The Saviors are not complex on his explanation. Negan still looked at the bat before glancing at annoyed Vix, which he agreed with her on this prick.

"Listen, I mean it when I say it. Negan, I don't like killing people any more than you do."

"I like killing people," Negan smiled, nonchalant.

He becomes bewildered and more nervous, he stutters a bit. "I say it's about killing the right people. So, you kill the right people at the right time," he puts the bat in his lap and crosses his hands, " _everything_ falls into place. Everybody's happy. Well, some people more than others. But you kill one, and you could be saving hundreds more, and that is what we are all about. We save people."

"That's- that's what you're called the Saviors." He chuckled like a joke but no one laughs, and Negan smirks down at him.

"You say Gregory, you don't like to kill people and I was saying that I do kill people under the right circumstances. But you shovel a bunch of shit and now kids are being killed. That says a lot of shit going on there."

"The Fairview is my house. I'm still the guy."

Negan leans forward, his face turned dark. "You know what I think Gregory. I think you're playing both sides. I think you are a thin-dicked politician threading the needle with your thin, thin dick."

"I-I didn't know when they came in. I... know I let a fox in my hen house, and I'll fix it. It's not my fault, I didn't-"

 _BANG_!

Negan slams the bat down on the table.

"You're a liar, Gregory." He slams the bat again.

 _BANG_!

He continues slamming the bat over and over, his voice rising higher and into a growl. "Money on the table. You brought those Bounty Hunters because of the ration dollars. You work with the KillGames, no expectation!"

"Vix told me everything that's happen, and you're backsliding Gregory. It's why I brought the RK's here."

"Oh, I thought you punished that girl, Melanie was it? She killed your people before, so you don't know if she-"

 _BANG_!

Gregory shuts his mouth and flinched. Negan chuckles. "Mal got in trouble, but once I bend her over and spank her a couple of times..." He chuckles to himself of the imagine. _Don't you think about this shit again, and be aroused in front of a meeting_. "She apologies and learns. It's how we do it."

Vix then said, "Gregory took those children because of money. I wonder if there are people in these towns a part of it."

"Why-" He stops himself, realizing he almost spoke the truth. Negan gave a sly wink at Vix, very impressed to see this badass girl make a stand over the thin dick prick.

"Plan A, we find the KillGames, Hammer and the leader White-Ass-Face, and making them dead in a very, very instructive way. We kill the right people in the most wrong way as possible, show the message to never bring those KillGames. By some time, very soon morning, we find a few Bounty Hunters to help, half my men will join and take down the fuckers. Once we finish this shit, there'll be a negotiation on getting your ass out of Fairview an leg someone else take over. And I defiantly will see many people kicking your limp dick out from what happened last night."

After the meetings down, Rachael comes back. "Got a heard of Basher, he heard about the KillGames, and is going to fight with us. He heard people when Charlie was gone it was all-out fight to take over his territory."

"Bust my balls. With the Bounty Hunter's help, we can finish it."

-:-:-:-:-

"Just so I'm clear on this," said Dylan in his calmest and most reasonable voice. "You want to take us camping in the Ruins."

"Yes," said Tom. "I want you guys to learn and help the Saviors."

"Out where the zoms are?"

"Yes."

"Out where there are three hundred million zoms?"

Sam smiled. "I doubt there are that many of them left. I doubt there's more than two hundred million left."

Dylan peered at him with the flat stare of a lizard. "That's not as much of a comfort as you might think, Sam."

"Hundred million fewer things that want to eat you," said Sam. "Put it in the win category."

"Hush," said Benny, "there was grown folks talking."

They were in Sam's yard.

"Are you going?" Dylan asked.

Benny sighed, and looked a little pale. Of his friends, Benny was the smartest and most well-read, but he was by far the least physical. Sam had to bully him into a game of soccer, and even then Benny preferred to be the goalie. "Yeah. Want to fight against the zoms."

"And will have to fight people as well. I can take care of that." Tom said.

"I'll stay here and keep an eye on the Fairview." Dylan suggested, still dealing with the struggle of his father's death. Clary was a but scared to go out, and in a quick decision to not participate. She rather fix the gates and fight off Roamers than kill people. Sam couldn't quite understand why Clary thinks people kill people. Depends on the question you're asking for, Sam's inner voice wanted to say.

"So that's the plan," Sam said brightly, trying to lighten the mood. "We go with Mal and her group while you leave with Negan and his band of Saviors."

"I'm not trying to kill you." Tom sipped his iced tea. "Camping out in McGowan Field is hardly the same as surviving in the Ruins. The RK's know how to do that. So do I, Negan and the Saviors. Sam does as well. Benny learned a little when the place was overrun, but you guys don't know enough."

"The thing is," said Tom, "the stuff Mr. Freeney taught you in the Scouts was all well and good, but it's old world. That's the problem with a lot of what you kids have been taught, and it's the problem with a lot of the books they make you read in school. They're good in themselves, but they aren't part if this world. It's important to know the past, but your survival depends on knowing the present. I mean... has Mr. Feeney been outside the gate recently?"

"Not since a few wells after the Black Night," said Clary. "He got here around the same time as my mom, and I don't think he ever left again."

Tom nodded. "Right, which means that his knowledge is all based on camping in vacation spots and national parks as they were before the dead rose. He had no idea what it's like out there in the wild."

"When do we start?" Sam asked with enough enthusiasm to make Clary wince.

"When the Saviors leave tomorrow at first light," said Tom. He narrowed his eyes at Sam. "And that means we are up, washed, dressed, packed, and at the fence. You can choose to come or not, I'm not forcing you. Dress for hiking." He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Benny. "Here's the list of what you'll need."

Benny's eyes flickered down the list. "There's not a lot of stuff here, Tom."

"You won't want to carry a lot."

"No... I mean, there's stuff missing. Like... food."

"We'll forage and hunt. Nature provides, if you know how to ask."

"No tents?"

"You'll learn to build a basic shelter. All you need is a sleeping bag. We'll be roughing it."

"No toilet paper?"

Sam grinned. "That's what 'roughing it' means, Benny."

"We'll use bunches of grass or soft leaves," explained Tom.

Benny stared at him. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Early man didn't have toilet paper," said Sam. "I'll bet it even says so in one of your books."

"Early man, perhaps," Benny said icily, "but we did evolve."

Tom laughed. "We won't be long once we find the KillGames. Go pack."

-:-:-:-:-

The next day was the viewing and funeral for twenty-nine people. More than two hundred people showed up. Vix showed up for the families loses. Mal went but stayed back from the crowd, staying with Lugh, Lugh, and the kids. Clouds obscured the sun and turned wet and cool, but no rain fell. The trees were filled with crowd and grasshopper sparrows.

Pastor Kellogg wore a black robe and held a heavy and very battered old Bible. Everyone dressed in formal clothes. Mal did not own a dress, but at least wore blue jeans and a clean white shirt. Vix wore a pretty dress that she made from her free time. The dress was a richer shade of blue than Mal's jeans, and the bodice was embroidered with wild flowers and hummingbirds. The colors made Vix's raven hair and hazel eyes look more intense.

Tom wore a black shirt and jeans and kept his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses he'd recently bought from a trader. He did not say a word the whole time. Sam and his friends stood by, Benny's family was there. The priest read the prayers and made the sign of the cross and talked a lot about redemption.

Vix went to her group. Max turned to look at her, and the sunlight made his eyes brighter and his skin more lighter to a honey tone.

"Mal...? Can I- can we come with you when you go out?"

"Go out?"

"To help. I know we are still young but we want to learn. You've trained us and now, we want to help people and experience it. We're like you, the RK's. Will you let us?"

It was a crucial question, and all teens wrestled with it. Did Mal want them to go?

Mal weighed her feelings very carefully. The answer was not a thing she could just reach inside and grab. It was buried deep, hidden in the soul of her subconscious and her needs and desires. On some level she knew it's a risk and wouldn't let them. However, she looks one last time of the kids; all of them are very much prepared. Mal, Vix, Lugh, and Lalon were once their ages and had to learn to survivor on their own.

"Yes," she said eventually. "Yes. I agree you guys can go with us. It's time for you guys to learn on who you are in the Ruins."

Vix nodded. "I believe that as well."

"It's hard, but we are no different from you guys," Lugh said. "We still worry about you, but we can keep you hidden from it all."

Lalon settled back against a tree. "Remember you follow us. You are our shadows and be very smart about it."

The kids smiled and Max took Mal's hand. "We will. Thank you for being with us, be our family."

Mal could of cried but didn't, instead squeezed his hand.

"Are you guys scared?"

"About tomorrow? Yeah," Killeen said, "We're all freaking terrified."

"Me too." After a moment Johan said, "It's so big, you know?"

"Yeah."

Five minutes rolled by, they went on their own. Lugh sat on the porch, sharping the blade of the ax, and the last of the clouds melted into endless blue. A lone hawk floated high above him.

"Hey." Alec went towards Lugh.

He smiled. "H-Hey." Alec sits down and shimmied an once closer to the edge.

"Lugh?"

"Yeah?"

"You scared?"

"A bit," he said, "Nothing's new. Been to war before."

"More like a mission. Can I ask you something?"

Lugh tensed, but said, "Okay."

Alec looked at his face, counting the freckles on his cheeks to leading on his emerald eyes. "I- um... it's nothin'."

The words he wanted to say got sucked away from his air and left Alec gasping like a trout. His eyes wanted to look left and right to see if there was a way out of this. Maybe he could jump off the porch. He has so much a hard time to work up the courage to tell him that he likes him, and Lugh had never even gone within pistol shot of liking him as well. He's afraid maybe he got the wrong signals. And now he wanted him to come right out and say it. Not in some romantic moment, not while holding hands as they walked through spring flowers, or while snuggled together watching the sunset: right here, right now, on his porch roof, with all the exits and doorways to a cowardly retreat nailed shut.

But no courage for Alec, which he hates himself for it. Lugh eyes were filled with green mystery and what? Challenge? Was it some type of struggle he's fighting off?

 _No_ , when he tried to put a label on what he saw in his eyes, the one that seemed to fit best... was hope.

Hope. Suddenly his heart started beating again, or at least beating differently.

Lugh licked his dry lips and swallowed a dry throat and hooked a finger under his scraggly chin and lifted his face towards his, and kissed him.

It had been so long since he'd tasted someone and ever been so nicely, so maybe that was why Lugh was like honey against his lips.

Lugh pulled away to see Alec's shocked but relieved face, taking his face in both of his hands. "Do you like me, Alec?"

Alec swallowed his dry throat and in a dry voice said, "Yes."

Lugh's eyes searched his, looking for a lie.

Somehow that made Alec feel stronger. He leaned toward him, letting him see everything he could find in his eyes.

"Lugh... I love you so much."

"You do?" He asked in a voice that was fragile as a butterfly's wing.

"Yes. I love you. I really do from the moment we met." It felt strange to say aloud. Enormous and good and delicious.

"I love you too."


	44. Chapter 40

Negan was already to Tom's home when Mal got back to the house after her patrol- she could hear him singing loud and off-key over the sound of the shower down the hallway. Mal climbed the stairs and pawed through the scant contents of the bedroom closet, which contained a few nice button-up shirts that must have been from the previous owner. She chose one for Lalon since he couldn't find one and pleads Vix to make her one and she didn't have enough time. The shower had been shut off for a few minutes to cross the hallway and knock on the bedroom door. Negan answered it with wet, rumpled hair and a towel around his waist. Mal swallowed hard and tried not to question why she was having to force herself to look Negan in the eye.

"There's a... gathering tonight." Mal mumbled awkwardly, hovering in Negan's doorway. He clutched the shirt in her hand. "At Gregory's. I don't think it's optional."

"A gathering?"

"For the people remorse. Like a party, I guess. He wants everyone to meet us." It felt like a problem from another life, not wanting to go to a neighborhood get-together.

"What's that?" Negan asked, nodding to the shirt.

"It's for Lalon. There were some dress shirts in one of the closets upstairs. Thought it would make a better impression than bloodstained t-shirts."

Negan chuckled and went to the closet, looking the one he saw. Mal didn't realize she was watching him until Negan's eyes found her's again and she felt her face grow warm.

"I, uh. I'll go get dressed," Mal mumbled, closing Negan's door behind her and head downstairs where Vix holds out the dress for her.

"That for me?" She asked, smiling on how beautiful it is.

"Wanted something you're comfortable with. And to show off."

The dress is a dark lavender purple, short at the front to the knees and long at the back. It was thick but not too puffy, embroidered in layers. Putting on with the addition of short purple gloves, Vix starts on Mal's hair, curling the tips of her hair. After Mal puts on sneakers, Vix is dolled up and beautiful as ever. Her dress is rich blue, so long and sophisticated, the raven hair topped in a bun, and soft makeup.

A short while later, they met in the living room, everyone donned in clean clothes. Lugh puts a crisp white shirt and tight jeans. It strange to see him slinking his hair back with gel, and had this happy look on his face. He must of finally confessed his feelings for Alec; she liked how he found someone to protect and love him. Lalon had taken his time to wear a stylish suit, the jacket is leather, of course, and hair pulled into a ponytail.

They head over, Mal feeling a bit ridiculous like she was the center of attention. As if she wanted more people to look at her again. She thought about what the heck would Negan wear. Mal imagines Negan's going to show up in that godforsaken jacket and those filthy biker boots of his, complete with red scarf and gloved hands that will no doubt have people being a bit timid at his appearance. Not necessarily a bad thing, since Mal would of done the same but instead let herself dress up nice for the people in the community, not for Gregory.

When Mal spots Negan coming behind them, she's surprised to see that Negan actually isn't in his usual leather jacket. The guy has chosen a black suit with a white undershirt, and he's wearing some sort of cologne that Mal realizes amidst a flashback of Vix's eyebrow-waggle smells good. Negan looks good, smells good, and when he peers up at Mal and that smile tugs at the corners of his lips, Mal finds she's impressed by just how cleaned-up the bad boy Negan can get.

Mal notices he's shaved off his beard, and she almost strange and a bit sad for seeing him with no beard. Either way, she likes how Negan looks, all clean-shaven like that. She can see the sharp jawline and the dimples that form when he grins better, now.

In Vix's defense, Negan is attractive...

It's just when the guy opens his mouth that Mal wants to shove something in it to make him stop talking.

"You look good in anything, don't you?" Negan commented, his eyes roaming over Mal's dress. Mal wasn't sure what to say, and definitely didn't know what to do with the surge of pleased warmth that spread through her at the compliment

Negan smiled at the beauty before him and stretched his hand out put a strand of one of curled hair in her ear. She noticed how nice his arm looks in those fancy black sleeves. With his arm stretched out like this, Mal can see the white cuff of his undershirt protruding from the black suit, covering up all but a tiny portion of his wrist. Mal clears her throat.

"You ready to go?" Lugh asked instead for Mal to say something.

"As I'll fucking ever be."

-:-:-:-:-

The party was an relaxing, drunken affair, to say the very least. The town was doing their best to make everyone feel at home there- drinking the booze, chanting a storm to the Saviors who are trying to be hammered from tomorrow morning- but there was an air of awkwardness surrounding Mal. The RK's only seemed to enjoy themselves. Mal took some comfort in knowing that her reluctance to be here was a shared sentiment, though. She stayed behind the crowd where the dance floor takes place, sitting alone. Negan, thankfully, hovered close by, his fingers occasionally brushing Mal's as if to say, _it's okay, I'm still here_.

Well, this party is very fuckin' boring. Barely can't get drunk, gamble or have premarital sex in here."

"Oh my God. That's ninety-five percent of you. You know what, I like this place now." She snickered as he shoved her arm.

"Fuck you, you little shit."

They went to silence, listening the laughter, the music playing in the dance floor then changes to a another guitar song.

"Wanna dance?"

Mal eyed Negan's outstretched hand dubiously. "Er- no, thanks. I'm good right here," she replied, indicating the seat she'd been sitting at for the better part of the night.

Negan pushed out his lower lip in a mockery of a pout that made Mal want to roll her eyes into the back of her skull. "C'mon, Mal! One dance. I promise I won't make fun of you if you've got two left feet. Hell, if you want, you can do that thing where you stand on my shoes and I do all the work." His hand lingered in front of Mal's face, and he wiggled his fingers in an invitation to join him.

Mal shook her head, "I mean it, Negan. I really don't dance. You don't want to see me out there, I promise. Go find Vix, I'm sure she'd be thrilled to have a dancing partner. She's been trying to get Sam out there all night."

Negan didn't waver. "I can dance with her later. Right now, I want to dance with my little Savior." When Mal still didn't take his hand, he changed his approach. "C'mon, Mal. Pretty fucking please? You need to loosen up a bit. Just give me one slow dance with you, and I'll leave you alone about it. And I'll make it up to you later, if you want?" He added with a suggestive wink.

She sighed in defeat and placed her hand in Negan's. "Alright. Fine. You win. One dance. And I'm going to hold you to what you said. You most definitely will be making it up to me later."

Negan looked positively giddy as he led Mal out onto the dance floor, and Mal could have sworn there was a spring in her step as they joined the other partygoers. "Whatever you want, baby, you got it. Hell, if you wanna fucking drag me off into the bathroom and pretend it's our party night, I'd be pleased as punch to oblige."

Mal would've punched him however she snickered, feeling oblige to have him here and not be too mad at him, as she placed one hand on Negan's shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat when Negan pulled her close, their bodies flush against each other as Negan began to lead her into a slow rocking rhythm in time with the music.

It...wasn't all that bad, actually. It was really kind of nice like she was one of those princesses in Disney, dancing with her Prince Charming, only with Mal, she's forgets the Prince Charming, she is dancing with Negan instead. Negan, much to Mal's surprise, seemed to know just what he was doing, his movements and the way he led Mal were fluid and natural. Negan's arm wound around Mal's waist, hand resting on her back, and Mal let herself be led, blue eyes locking with Negan's amber ones moved together.

"See? This isn't so fucking terrible, is it?" Negan murmured.

"It's... not bad," Mal conceded, "You're better at this than I thought you'd be."

Negan chuckled into her ear, leaning in close, "I'm full of fucking surprises, Mal," He purred, swaying back and forth with Mal for a few more blissful seconds before their eyes met but were deeply into each other. Mal felt warm, butterflies in her chest, her face flushing pink as she lean against his chest where his shirt opened for his hair to peak, and she looked away from his intense eyes. "Hey, wanna come with me?"

"Where?"

"You'll see." The man laughed giddily, trying not to jump childishly. She accepts the offer. He pulls her tiny hand into his, pushing their through the crowd as Mal can't stop grinning like a girl, it aggravates her.

And in the background, Tom had a conflicted look on him between Negan and Mal dancing then giggling like two teenagers and sneaked off somewhere. He felt strange about their relationship, Negan must be a grateful friend for Mal. So why does he feel something's going on? Soon he waves it off and finishes his drink.

Negan dragged Mal outside, coming up to the bridge where at the right showed the lake. Mal gasped and smiled at the decoration of the porch. Lights hanged on the roof, on the circular railings, filling the porch bright in the dark. In the middle is a boom box.

"I should have seen that coming," she muttered, shooting Negan a mutinous look that made the taller man laugh in giddy agreement.

"Probably. But like I said, Mal. I'm full of fucking surprises." Crouching, he turns the boom box, it plays out a guitar intro, she immediately recognized the song playing.

"Feel like Makin' Love by Bad Company."

"Hot diggety dog, baby. You're so into the rock. I feel like I'm a bad influence into you." He flushed Mal back against his chest as Negan began to lead her into a slow rocking rhythm in time with the music. Their hips away, Negan twirls Mal before pulling her back, a giggle came out and warmed Negan's heart.

Immediately and without warning, Mal's mind flashed back to that morning, to herself and Negan in bed, sharing a pillow with their bodies pressed close. She thought about how loudly her heart had been beating when Negan had looked at her- the rapid thunder of blood in her veins terrifying and thrilling her.

She recalled the thought that had crossed her mind- the ridiculous, childish, impulsive thought that she'd been seconds away from acting on: _kiss him_.

She knew she felt something for him, not quite sure what it was since she knows nothing about it. Although, her disbelief make her reject the idea, calling herself stupid.

Maybe it's possible. She lets herself lean her head against his head, letting the song play out as Negan stayed close by her.

-:-:-:-:-

When Negan said he'd make them dinner, Mal had expected something simple- cracking open a couple cans of beans and mixed vegetables, maybe even throw them together in a Tom-style casserole if she was lucky. Mal got a quick shower to wash off her hair and get out of this dress out as they got home, conked on the couch for a long day, and an hour later to Negan shaking her shoulder.

"C'mon, Mal. I fucking made spaghetti, just for you." Mal sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, empty stomach growling with interest.

"Spaghetti?"

"Yeah. Now get your ass up. The kids are already at the table. It's good, I promise. I'm pretty damn sure it's what made Ellie fall in love with me- can't resist my special sauce." He cracked a devilish grin and Mal felt her cheeks heat up.

"R-right," She stuttered, willing the flush to disappear. Maybe it wasn't as noticeable? She could only hope. She seated herself at the table across from Negan and dug in, eyes going wide at the first heaping forkful of spaghetti. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten something that tasted like this. Negan watched her, eyes shining with delight.

"Good, right?"

Mal nodded vigorously, swallowing a mouthful. "Really good. You weren't kidding."

Negan chuckled and dug in. "I don't joke about my cooking skills, Mal."

-:-:-:-:-

That night, after AJ had been tucked into her crib, the kids sleeping comfortably in their beds, and her friends was holed up in their room and the kids in theirs with a stack of comics, she heads downstairs to the fireplace. She couldn't sleep, was too anxious about tomorrow. She debated on staying with Negan until they get to the monk station or leave and meeting him back there. He wanted her to stay, but she couldn't stand the thought of not able to go out and track the bastard down. Her nerves boiled at the thought; her mind is extremely fucked-up.

Putting a pillow and blanket she laid herself down, looking up into the fireplace upside down. She loved doing this at the Quarantine Zone, ever since she was a kid she'd lay there for hours watching the fire change and spark. It was better than watching the stars.

"What the fuck are you doing?" A sleep-filled voice asked her from above.

Not bothering to draw her eyes away from the fireplace she replied.

"Watching the fire. It's nicer from down here. You ever try it?"

"Can't say I've ever felt the urge to lie upside down a fireplace."

"C'mon then. Live a little." Mal gestured with her hand for him to lie beside her.

She shifted to accommodate his larger frame, their bodies settling against each other as they looked up at the lights. Mal see his hand bandaged up; must of punched Gregory or a Infected. "How's your hand?" Mal asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

"Oh, fine. It'll heal."

Negan bent his elbow to raise his hand above them, Mal looked at the redness that stood out on his knuckles. She brought her own up to compare, hers was fine, the wrapping having done it's job protecting her against the heavy bag. Negan's hand looked so much bigger than her own from this angle. She said as much to Negan who laughed in response and placed their hands together so Mal's laid on top of his.

"You've got a point there, small hands."

"That my new nickname?" Her fingers twitched on top of Negan's.

"Hmmm, not sure if it'll catch on. "

They both laughed, tiredness and the happy memories from the day making them more relaxed. Their fingers gently toyed with each other as they compared size. Not one of their most insightful conversations but Mal loved the physical contact. Her whole body vibrated at the proximity, the joy making her heady, she felt almost drunk.

She watched as their fingers interlocked, watched as Negan's larger hand curled around her. Her stomach tingled with excitement and nerves, breath quickening as her eyes met Negan's. She'd never get used to that look on his face, the one that made her brain melt and mouth dry out. She slowly edged closer to him, wanting to be nearer, the air between them intertwined flowing from one into the other. It was making her dizzy, her senses were filled with Negan and it was perfect. Lost in the moment he inched further bringing her lips to brush against Negan's. It almost was enough to make her heart stop.

Tingles trickled from her lips to spread through her body at the first real touch. She felt Negan shift himself to slot their lips more firmly together, as their mouths moved against each other. A soft hand stroked along her cheek, the familiar gesture almost made Mal purr against him. In that moment it was just the two of them in that little spot, protected from the world by the grand twinkling fire. She tried to memorize every second of the kiss, the slight hint of tongue that teased out from between chapped lips, the warm breath that hit her cheek as Negan breathed out, the woody smell of the man that drove her crazy.

Eventually the need for air became too much, she pulled away, puffs of air hitting Mal's lips as they caught their breath. She pushed her forehead against Negan's, nudging their noses together, opening her eyes to take in the man. She was relieved to see the man as affected by the kiss as he was, his eyes were frantically searching her face, and he was panting equally hard. The hand on her cheek moved down to curl around her neck, thumb stroking at her hairline.

"Jesus... What are you doing to me Mal?" Negan breathed out.

Mal couldn't answer him, couldn't possibly think enough to give him a decent answer instead she curled her head down to rest softly on his shoulder, allowing herself to be lulled to sleep by the hand still stroking her hair.


	45. Chapter 41

Her back twinged as Mal awoke, her body twisting on the hard floor digging into her hips, a sharp contrast to the softness under her cheek. She groaned as the pain trickled through her, lifting her hip up slightly to relieve the pressure. Her hand curled on bare flesh, she frowned her fingers trailed through wiry hair. She flinched back, scooting away from the body next to her. Her eyes focused on the dim room, shards of light flickered through curtains, her heart lifted when she realized exactly who was next to. Negan. Her body relaxed, they were still by the fireplace, she had to remind herself not to sit up and disrupt his sleep. Laying back down she rubbed her hands over her eyes, wiping the sleep away, a sigh heaved its way out of her chest.

Panic settled in as she thought about the previous night; she'd really crossed a line by kissing him. It just felt so right, she couldn't resist drawing their lips together and when they started she didn't want to stop. She never wanted to stop, that was the problem. Things really did seem worse in the harsh light of day, the memory of the kiss brought her more anxiety the more she thought about it. What was she thinking kissing her leader? A man twice his age, who probably had other interests than kissing teenage girls, and wouldn't be interested since Negan has many wives of his own and had only one person he'd cared. Then again he had kissed her back... why? It was relieving to know that Negan seemed to want her just as much as she did but she couldn't figure out how he could possibly find her attractive. Doubts pricked at her; was Negan just using her to make himself feel better? Charlie's words echoed in her mind ' _men like him will say anything to get between your legs_ ,' it made Mal sick to think that Negan was trying to get her into bed. Another part of her brain rebelled, she knew Negan, she trusted him. The man had been there for her during some of her darkest times, had respected her when she needed her space, he wouldn't be like that.

A moan from her side distracted her from her thoughts, she turned her attention to the body that was twisting beside her. She watched as Negan's face scrunched up in pain, no doubt feeling the same aches that Mal felt when she awoke. Brown eyes came to rest on her face, her heart sank when she saw Negan frown at her.

"How the fuck did I let you convince me it was a good idea to get down here?" He rolled over onto his side to face Mal. "I'm achin' like a whore after a busy night."

Mal laughed, a deep belly laugh that echoed through the room. All the tension in her body dissipated at his words.

"You didn't need much convincing." Mal reminded him.

"Fucking lies." Negan spoke again, he reached out a hand to brush against Mal's cheek, his usual cocky smile appeared on his face. "Mornin'."

Mal couldn't help but melt at the look, heart bursting at the attention. "Morning."

Mal slipped downwards, gliding along the wooden flooring before she pulled herself up. "You need help gettin' up old man."

Negan just laughed at her as she stood, he moved in front of Mal, eyebrows wiggling up suggestively as he spoke. "I can assure you I have no trouble getting it up."

Mal pushed his shoulder again, blushing as she walked away to the kitchen. She grabbed herself a glass of water and tried not to stare as Negan stretched himself out. Mal hadn't noticed the previous night that Negan wasn't wearing anything but his tight black boxers. She took a sip, wetting her dry mouth as she watched his tight muscles contract across his back, heart racing as she let her eyes wonder down from broad shoulders to a narrow waist. Sweat slicked her hands as she flicked her gaze to glance at Negan's ass, she couldn't help but notice how firm it was, the boxers doing the barest minimum to cover it up. She turned quickly and took a big gulp as Negan spun around, although it was pretty obvious how she felt about the man, she didn't want him to think that she was a total pervert.

"Gimmie some of that." Negan plucked the glass from his hand. Mal could feel the heat from his body behind her, her heart now pounding against her chest as blood pumped through it. She didn't want to think about where that blood was currently flowing to, she just hoped she could keep control of himself.

"I'm going to shower before we leave." She managed to squeak out.

"So what's your choice?"

"I'll be with the RK's. Sam and Benny are coming with us as well, and meet at the monk station." She replied, finally turning around to face him. She refused to let her eyes wander down to his glide over the tattoos and muscles she knew she'd find there.

"Okay. Just... don't be reckless Mal. I know what you're going to do, so think on it. Think before you kill yourself ok?"

"Ok," she said before darting around him to head up the stairs.

Walking into the room on the left, locking the door behind her, she stripped off and stepped inside the shower, closing the door behind herself. She breathed in and enjoyed the heavy pressure of the hot water, it was more perfect that she could imagine. The water massaged over her aching skin, bringing a delightful pleasure that spread over her. It did nothing to stop the ache that she'd been trying to ignore between her mind.

Why she had kissed Negan? It's a confusion of self teenager lust although, with Charlie kind of corrupting her, she wouldn't act this way. There's a sense of disbelief that she may like him however, will Negan be the same. She doubts it since the wives problem so she hopes Negan thinks that it was just hormones and forgets it.

Stepping out the shower she grabbed one of the pearly white towels from the rack and wrapped it around her waist. She wiped at the steam from the grand mirror above the sink and took a look at herself. Allowing her eyes to trail over her body she was relieved to see no visible marks from the old remains of Charlie. She didn't fancy putting her undershirt back on so she'd have to walk out of there in the towel.

She took a deep breath and shoved her underwear and bra on under the towel, she grabbed her tank top, jeans, and her flannel undershirt and walked out from the bathroom. Hearing a noise from the bedroom she padded across the hall to look into the room.

Mal was almost disappointed to see that Negan had gotten dressed whilst she was in the shower. He was currently chucking some clothes onto the bed from the dresser by the side of the room. His body now covered in a plain, dark plaid, the deep V of the neckline revealing a sliver of chest hair. His jeans were still underdone, Mal could see a hint of his boxers in the gap, it sent her pulse racing again.

"Hey." Negan said as he turned to see Mal standing there. Mal could see his eyes flit over her body, she shivered under the gaze wondering what was going through his mind. She couldn't help but wonder if Negan liked what he saw, whether he'd truly find a petite girl like her attractive. She'd never felt so vulnerable, never been so aware of what obvious found her attractive. In that moment she wanted to cover herself up, conceal herself from his gaze. She watched the man lick his lips, questioned whether she actually saw a flicker of lust fill Negan's eyes. The room was quiet for a moment, filled with tension. Mal became hyper aware of the bed that was in between them, almost a promise of things to come, things that could happen in that moment. She heard Negan clear his throat, breaking the moment.

"Not wearing your jacket?"

"No," she replied. "You too?"

"Rather not ruin it anymore."

Negan placed a plate full of food in front of her, Mal grabbed her knife and fork and slowly ate food into her mouth.

More silence fell between them as they ate, every silent second was a constant reminder that things were still strained between them. Every single word they'd exchanged had been halted, things hadn't flowed like they usually did. It was like they were stuck on opposing sides of a rushing river, she could see him but she didn't know how to get across to him. Every attempt had her drowning under the water. Negan didn't seem to know what to say either, Mal caught him opening his mouth several times as if he was going to say something but changed his mind at the last minute. Now that Mal had finished eating the silence was borderline painful, the only noise in the house was the clinking of Negan's knife and fork as he ate.

"Mal, are we just gonna sit here like this?"

Her eyes snapped back to Negan as he spoke, the man had finished his food and was leaning back against the chair with his arms folded over his chest.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm the one night stand you're doing your best to get rid of."

"What? I'm not trying to get rid of you. Just waiting for you to finish your damn food."

"Well I'm all done now, we gonna talk?"

"We are talking." She knew she was being pedantic, she was letting her frustration with their lack of communication rile her up.

"Mal..."

"Negan... " She responded.

They glared at each other. The atmosphere in the room becoming more charged as they let the emotions that they'd been burying bubble to the surface. "So we gonna talk about that kiss or what?" Negan asked, as blunt as ever, leaning his hips back against the counter.

"What about it?" She tried to play it cool, tried to ignore her heart pounding nervously in her chest.

"Well, here I thought I was playing the creepy perverted boss in some porno when I had dirty thoughts of you then you go and place a kiss like that on me. I kinda wanna know if that kiss means that you've been having the same thoughts or if I should lock myself up in jail already."

Mal nearly choked on the chocolate still in her mouth, her eyes widened at the thought of Negan having any dirty thoughts of her. "Uh...well...yeah I suppose. I just...." Mal couldn't find the right words to describe how she felt. "I don't know..." She hesitated before she spoke again. "What... what is it for you?"

Negan rubbed at his face, sighing into his hands. It was so complicated.

The longer she waited for a reply the more the insecurities crept in, was Charlie right about him? Negan had only mentioned dirty thoughts, nothing to do with falling for her. No mentioned if any feelings that resembled Mal's own. Mal played around, twisting her fingers as she tried to distract herself from the anxiety flitting in her stomach.

"It's... shit... I don't know I'm just as confused as you are. At first I thought I just liked the attention, it's been so long since I was with anyone that I figured I was just touch deprived or some shit like that but..."

"But?"

"I just...shit...I gotta know Mal did you wanna kiss me?" Negan almost sounded desperate in his question. "You weren't doing it because you felt like you had to or anything?"

"God no, Negan. No, it's not like that at all. I kissed you because I wanted too. I'd been thinking about it for ages, couldn't stop thinking about it actually. I don't know what that means, I don't have much...experience with the whole emotions thing but I do know I wanted to kiss you. You didn't make me."

Negan let out a sigh of relief that echoed in the room.

"Thank God for that."

"I don't need a label on us Negan if that's what you're thinking about. I'm gonna assume this whole situation is unchartered territory for both of us."

"Hell yeah, can't say I've ever been tempted by a teenager before."

"Glad I could be the first." Mal joked. "Whatever we are, it feels right. That's all I know and I'm not sure what that means in the future but for now that's enough for me."

"Me too." Negan replied. "Whatever you want this to be I'm down for it. You set the pace Mal, I'll take as much as you want me to have."

He put the plates in the sink and grabs Ellie from the couch, putting the backpack on as well. "I better leave now. I said bright and early."

"I guess I leave you guys go off." Mal gets everything she needed: her backpack, knife, machete, her gun and a rifle, and a canteen. Once heading to the door, both of them stopped.

They stood there for a moment, taking each other in. It was stupid, they'd see each other soon enough, but it felt like an eternity was spread out before then. Their fingers still intertwined, the contact driving them together again. Mal's eyelids fluttered closed and she wants to drive herself back to him, lean in and kiss him. But she is being stupid.

"Mal, you alright?"

She could hear Negan's voice, she looked up at him, eyes shifting over the figure as if they needed to double check that she wouldn't do anything stupid. "Yeah...yeah... I'm good... it's uh, I'm good." Guilt prickled at Mal as she saw the sad look on his face. She forced a smile at him, trying to control the shake in her hand as she rubbed Negan's arm. "I'll see you, later."

"Be safe, okay?"

"Okay."

Mal pulled away from him, Negan walking ahead to the gates where the few band of Saviors are. Mal stayed for a bit, willing her body to calm the hell down before she goes to see AJ for the last time. Clary and her family volunteer to take care of AJ. She hold him for one last time, the ache caused so much to not let go of the baby.

"You be brave, little goof." She kisses his soft head and said in a hush tone. "I love you."

"Love ya too," he smiled. When she finally lets go, she tries to breath. It felt like her lungs were on fire. It was more hard as she walks away, AJ said, " _Mal_." in a sad tone, pleading for her to come back. She ignores the painful sobs and goes to the gate and waits for everyone.

The group of teenagers and kids gather around the place. As they checked their gear, Lalon bought each of them three small bottles of cadaverine and a pot of mint gel from a vendor at the gate. Benny sniffed the cadaverine and winced. "Charming."

He began unscrewing the cap, but Mal said, "Not yet. We'll use the cadaverine and the mint as a last resort. We'll conserve it for now."

"Why?" Asked Benny. "Why not buy a couple of gallons of it and take a bath in the stuff?"

Sam leaned closed and said under his breath. "Yeah, that's make the girls want to crawl all over you."

Without changing expression, Benny murmured, "Feel free to fall over and die."

Sam smiled. He threw one last look back toward town. We're leaving, he thought. It's really happening. He finally is going to do something good for the town.

"Okay," Mal said, "here's the way we're going to do it. We lead, you follow. When we give instructions, I want you to pay attention. No screwing around."

"Keep your weapons slung," Lalon said. "Right now speed is more important than anything. The guards will try to keep Infected distracted until we're clear. After that, we're on our own."

"What if we run into a Infected?" asked Benny.

"If we do, we'll see it first. Let us handle it. If it comes at you from the side, Sam will take care of it." Mal gave them all a hard look. "I don't want any heroics. This place is harsh and a skilled fighter doesn't take needless risks. Do you understand?"

They nodded.

"No," Mal said sternly, "say it."

They said it.

The Infected was fifty yards along the fence line now, and Mal nodded to the gateman, who quietly lifted the restraining bar. The hinges were always well-oiled to allow for silence. One by one they slipped out through the gate and ran at full speed to the bank of purple shadows beyond which the morning sun was rising.

The ten of them made no sound, and within a few minted even the sharpest of the tower guards could not see them. The forest appeared to swallow them whole.

-:-:-:-:-

They ran deep into the woods, following a path that was always kept clear for the traders who brought in wagons of goods scavenged from warehouses and small towns. As the sun rose it was easier for Sam to avoid stepping in the wheel ruts. Benny, who was much less coordinated, tripped several times. Mal helped him up each time, but instead of it being an act of kind assistance, she growled at him. The kids caught up to run side by side with Sam, and they were grinning back at Benny.

After a half of mile the RK's slowed from a full-out run to a light trot, and a mile later eased down to a walk; and finally stopped for a rest.

Benny went over to the side of the road and threw up. Mal watched with unconcealed contempt. It was not that Benny was frail- he had trained as hard as everyone else and his lean body was packed with wiry muscles- but he never reacted well to sustained exertion.

Killeen patted Benny on the back, but as he did so he bent down and quietly said, "Dude, you're completely embarrassing out gender here."

He wandered off to stand with the RK's, who was taking several small sips from their canteens.

"Benny okay?" Vix asked.

"He'll live," Sam said. "He doesn't like physical exertion."

"No, really?" Lalon grinned and Lugh gestured to a fork in the road. "Soon as everyone's caught their breath, we'll go that way. It's high ground, so we'll see fewer Infected today. Tomorrow we'll see about going down land to where the dead are."

"Why?" Asked Sam. "Wouldn't it be better to avoid them completely?"

"Can't," said Max. "Infected and Runners are always everywhere, even in the hills." Benny joins them. His color was bad, but better than it had been during the last quarter mile of their run.

Mal wants to ditch them and go off on her own. Kill the people whined the KillGames and find Charlie and the games. She didn't like to leave them behind; she can't get the anxious itch off her skin. When was the right time to leave and could she tell them in case. In the background, the kids and Benny and Sam talked about the theories about the Infected; science vs religion.

"Why?" Rin challenged Benny. "Because you don't believe in anything?"

"I believe in science."

Johan pointed out the forest. "How does science explain that?"

"I don't know, but I believe there's an answer." Benny cocked his head to one side. "Are you saying that you don't believe in science? Or you saying that there has to be a religious answer? And since when did you get religious?"

Johan shook her head. "She not saying anything has to be anything, Benny. We should be open mind. Science may not have all the answers."

"I keep a very open mind, thank you very much... but I don't think-"

"Freeze!"

Mal's sharp whisper cut through the air and rooted everyone in place.

Thirty yards up the path Mal stood in a half crouch, her right hand raised to grip the handle of her machete. Fifty yards behind Lugh, Vix, and Lalon were in the middle of the road. Vix had her bow out; Lugh gripped the handle of his ax; Lalon held his spear ready in a two-handed grip.

"What is it?" Max whispered, but Mal held up a finger, cautioning him to be silent. On either trees rose in dark columns to form a canopy that obscured most of the sunlight, allowing only stray beams to slant down. At ground level the shrubs and wild plant life clustered so densely around the tree trunks that they formed an impenetrable wall; the kids could see nothing of what might be coming toward them. Sam and Benny drew their bokken swords and shifted to stand with their backs to each other, just as Tom had taught them.

"What is it?" Killeen hissed, gripping on his pipe. "Infected?"

Mal shook her head but said nothing.

The kids and Max joined Sam and Benny, and the six of them shifted into a six-sided combat formation.

"You see anything?" Max whispered.

"No," Said Rin. "Don't hear anything either."

It was true; the forest was as silent as the grave, an image that did not make anyone feel good. Sam sniffed the air. The forest offered up a thousand scents. Flowers and tree bark and rich soil and...

And what?

There was a smell on the air. Faint but getting stronger.

"Can you guys smell that?" Sam murmured.

"Uh-huh," Johan said. "Smells weird. Kind of familiar... but not really."

Max raised his dagger and pointed into the woods with the gleaming blade. "There," he said. "It's coming toward us."

"What is it?" Rin asked in a frightened whisper.

Mal drew her gun. "Get ready."

"To do what?" demanded Killeen. "Fight or run."

" _Please_ ," murmured Benny, "don't let it be zoms. Don't let it be zoms."

"No," said Mal, "it's not Infected or Runners. Whatever's coming is very much alive."

Everyone heard it then. A crunch as something heavy stepped down on fallen twigs, the sound muffled by the nearly decayed carpet of last year's leaves. A moment later there was another sound, different, low and strange. Lalon and Lugh exchanged a look. He raised his eyebrows.

"Sounds like a bull," he said.

Max frowned. "Out here?"

"Lots of animals running wild out here," said Lalon. "Ever since the Black Night zoo animals might of escaped and inhabited the Ruins."

"Could be from a farm country." Vix suggested.

The sound came again, deeper and louder.

"Awful big bull," Johan said.

There was more of the twig crunching, and each time the sound was louder and closer.

"Shouldn't we, um... run?" Suggested Benny.

Sam hissed at them to be quiet, adding, "Running makes it worse, you're prey. It's better to see what it is and to fight than be hunted."

Mal opened her mouth to say something, possible to counter her absolute viewpoint, but then there was a loud snort and grunt as something gigantic crashed through the wall of shrubs and vines. Branches snapped like spider-webs as it shouldered its way out of the forest and into the road. It lumbered into the middle of the path not thirty feet from where the kids, Sam, and Benny, and it paused, sniffing the air.

It was a monster. Slate grey and black-eyed, standing on four short legs, each with a three-toed foot that was bigger than Mal's head. Immense, with a massive chest and shoulders that were unlike anything Mal had seen in the flesh. In books, sure, but she thought that creatures like this belonged to a different age of the world.

"Oh my God!" whispered Vix, the immediately clapped a hand to her mouth as the creature turned its enormous head toward her.

This was easily three times bigger than the largest bull in Wyoming. Mal remembered reading about it and teaching the kids. The second largest land mammal in the world after the elephant. The whole thing had to be fourteen feet long and over six feet at the shoulders. Thick humps of muscle stood out on its neck to support the long head with a vast snout, from which sprouted two deadly horns, the longer of which was a thirty-inch spike that could have punched right through Mal's body.

It stood its ground, ears swiveling independently to catch all sound, nostrils huffing to gather the smells of the ten people crouched in the road.

Mal stared, eyes giggled wide, mouth open.

"Is that a... a...?" Johan tried to ask.

"Uh-huh," said Killeen.

The creature turned its head sharply toward them.

"I'm dreaming this, right?" Asked Rin.

"Not a dream," Lugh whispered, so rattled to see the animal.

"It's a white rhinoceros," declared Benny, a little too loudly. "But how?"

"Shut up!" Warned Max, but it was too late.

The huge animal suddenly gave a loud, wet snort and took a challenging step toward Benny. The massive rhinoceros grunted, a deep sound that was full of meaning and menace. It pawed the ground and blew out its nostrils.

"Okay," said Mal. "Run."

There was a beat where they all looked at her.

"NOW!"

The rhino tilted its wicked horns toward them, bunched the gigantic muscles of its back and hindquarters... and charged.


	46. Chapter 42

"Go! Go... GO!" Bellowed Mal as she grabbed the kids and Benny and shoved them toward the forest wall. "Into the trees."

"I'm sorry!" Yelled Benny.

"Shut up and run!"

The ground shook as seven thousand pounds of furious muscle rumbled toward them. Despite its size, the animal was incredibly fast. Lalon flung his spear at it, but the blade merely slashed a red groove along its armored shoulder. It did nothing expect make the rhino madder.

"Oh," he said softly, and then he was running.

Mal lingered a split second longer, sighting along the barrel of her gun at the rhino's black eye. Then she whipped the gun away, shoved it into its holster, and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She caught up with the others and yelled at them to cut left so they were running almost parallel to the road.

The rhino tried to turn sharply to intercept, but the angle was too sharp. It's huge feet skidded on the dried mud of the road. Then, with a roar, it headed straight into the forest. The rhino's shoulders slammed into a pair of slender pines, snapping them at the base.

"Use the trees," yelled Vix. "Circle around the big ones."

Sam was in the lead, and he shifted his angle to head toward a gnarled old sycamore. He dodged behind it, then spun and pulled Benny and Max in behind him.

The rhino spotted them and charged. It veered at the last second, so instead of hitting the tree full on, its horns slashed a deep gouge in the woods and shook the old sycamore from roots to leaves. The rhinos whirled and rammed the tree again, and Max threw his arms up to shield his eyes from the spray of splinters the impact out of the gouge. The animal tried to chase them around the tree, but they were more agile. It snorted and trotted away, then cut left and rammed again, and this time there was a _crack_ and the sycamore canted sideways and crashed down on the grass with a huge leafy _whumpf_!

"Now what do we do?" Whispered Benny in a strangled voice. Sam shot a look at him and saw that his friend's eyes were wide and jumpy with fear that was very quickly going to overwhelm him.

The beast galloped forty feet away and then cut right into a right circle. This time it didn't attack the tree but instead began angling to come around the trunk and go straight for Benny. The rhinos came at them like a thunderbolt.

"HEY!" Sam yelled as he stood up and waved his arms over his head. Instantly the think changed the angle of its charge and came straight for him. "Come on!" He cried to Max, and then he was racing away from the fallen tree.

"What are you doing?" Max yelled in panic, but as soon as he said it he understood. Sam tore across ten yards of open field toward a line of massive oaks. The rhino could never hope to knock one of them over.

Max turned to pull Benny over the trunk so they could follow, but Benny was gone. Max caught a glimpse of him running away from the oaks, heading toward a cluster of pines.

"Benny, no! Not that way!"

The rhino slowed to a trot and looked from Max to Sam and then at Benny. Sam was vanishing behind the trunk of a monstrous oak. Max was still partly covered by the huge bulk of dark roots from the overturned sycamore. Benny had a longer run ahead of him, and the only protection he had was a line of pines. Their bushy branches would hide him, but the soft pines offered no protection at all.

The rhino charged after Benny.

Max broke from the side of the sycamore and began shouting as Sam had. "Hey! Big and ugly! Over here!"

But if the rhino heard him, it didn't care. Chasing Benny was a straight run and an easy kill. It thundered after Benny, crushing huckleberry bushes and saplings under its ponderous bulk.

Max made it to Sam's oak, and kept running. He was right with him, and they sprinted down the corridor of old oaks, heading for a gap that looked like it might have been either a country lane or a firebreak. Max pointed as he ran, and Sam nodded. There was a chance they could turn left at the last oak, dash across the breaks and enter the grove on pines. Max figured they could come up behind Benny, pause long enough to beat some sense into him, then grab him and race back to the oaks.

At the break they paused for a moment, looking around for the RK's and the other kids. Max spotted them, but they are on the other side of the rhino. Johan was climbing into a cotton-wood tree. Lalon was circling to try and cut the animal's line of approach to the wall of pines.

"Hey!" Lalon yelled. "Here!" He jumped up and down, waving his arms. When he got no reaction, he fired a shot into the air. That did it. The rhino skidded to a stop and turned its vicious eye on this new target. Max was hoping that the animal would be getting tired by now, chasing one thing and then another. No such luck.

"It looks really, really mad," said Lugh.

The rhinoceros snorted a challenge, pawed the ground like a bull, tensed, and then launched itself straight for Lalon.

"Oh crap," Said Sam, but he wasn't talking about the danger Lalon was in. Lalon apparently had a plan, but no, he caught movement from the pines and saw Benny break cover to watch what Lalon and the rhino were doing. The rhino twitched its head as it noticed Benny.

"Oh for the love of-," Lalon cursed.

Benny was smarter than Sam, but in his panic be wasn't using his brain. Rhinos was not like people, cats, dogs, and hunting birds. They were predators. Despite the creature's formidable strength and size, it was built for protection. Predators have eyes that look forward. Prey animals have eyes on the side of their head. Usually that was to allow them to see threats creeping up from all sides. In this case...

Once more the rhino wheeled and circled back toward Benny, who screeched, wheeled, and ran back toward the screen of pines.

"Why does it keep going after Benny?" Asked Sam as they ran.

"'Cause he keeps heading for those pines," grunted Max.

"Yeah, but why?"

Lalon fired another shot. The rhino ignored him this time and kept charging toward Benny. Lalon yelled louder, Lugh joining as well, jumping up and down, but the rhino had its eyes fixed on Benny. "Not that way!"

Benny either couldn't hear or was too scared to pay attention. He dodge in and around a stand of oaks as the rhino lunged between the trunks, trying to gore him with its horn. Only the lucky chance of the trees having grown so close together was keeping Benny alive.

Then they saw Mal standing with her colt in a two-handed shooter's grip.

"Shoot it in the eye!" Sam yelled as they closed in on where she stood.

Mal ignored him and called out to Benny. "I'm going to fire twice, and then I want you to run behind the trees. Head to your left and to as deep into the forest as you can."

"No!" Max cried.

Mal cut him a sharp look. "You guys, head up on the trees. Once I lead the rhino away, head back to the road and wait for the RK's."

"What are you going to do?"

"Just do it!"

Max and Sam obeyed, but they ran only a dozen yards and then slowed to watch Mal took a few steps toward the enraged rhino and aimed her gun.

"Sorry about this, old girl." Mal said aloud.

The sound of the shot was strangely hollow. A _pok_! Sam expected it to be louder. The bullet hit the rhino in the shoulder. The creature howled, more in anger than in pain, but a second later it lunged at Benny.

Mal fired again, aiming at the creature's muscular haunch. The rhino shrieked, and this time there was pain in its cry.

It turned with mad fury in its eyes... and charged Mal.

As the rhino rumbled pad where they stood, Max and Sam waved silent urgency at Benny. He saw them, hesitated, looked at the retreating back of the rhino, and did nothing.

"Crap!" Growled Sam. "He's too scared to move."

Then something rose up out of the weeds behind Benny.

"Guys!" Gasped Max.

"Why didn't you idiots climb a tree?" Killeen demanded. "What was all that running around?"

He didn't wait for an answer, and instead grabbed Benny's shoulder and fairly dragged him along behind him. The four of them ran through the grass and shrubs toward the trees and then out onto the road with the others.

Far away the regroup, and they heard two more hollow gunshots.

And then nothing except the triumphant roar of the rhinoceros.

"Are we ok?" Vix asked, looking for everyone here.

"I think so. Man, I'm out of shape." Lalon took some deep breathes.

One by one they crawled down to the lowest limb and then dropped. Benny was last, and his legs were visibly trembling.

"We have to go find Mal," Whispered Rin.

"Did she being the rhino with her?" Questioned Sam.

"Mal is a good hunter. She'll find us." Vix said.

"But what if she doesn't?" Demanded Max

"She will." Lugh counters to calm the kids.

"What if she can't?"

A voice said, "She has."

The kids whipped their heads around so fast. "Mal!" They all screamed.

And Mal wasn't here. She talked through the radio.

Mal stood in the waist-high grass at the bed of the tree. Her dirty blonde hair sweaty.

"Where are you?" Lugh called through the radio.

"I'm going to separate. See if there are Infected and people around the area. Clear them off as you guys head to Brother David's way station. I'll meet you guys later."

"Why are you leaving?" Complained Killeen. And all start to argue. Mal was frustrated. She wanted to tell them the truth, but rather have herself do it. She believes the kids can do it, can survive this.

"I have too. I will call you guys. I love you."

She ends the call and head over to find the way station, but slows down to find anyone around the area. She'll kill every last one of them.

"Well, that's that. Hope that Negan and Tom made it to the station as Mal will. What happened with the animal?" Max asked, and Lalon accepted his spear back from Vix. "Didn't even pierce the skin."

"Yeah, Mal bullets didn't seem to do her much harm either."

"She could of shot it in the eye," said Sam.

"She would have if she couldn't get Benny and the rest of you out of there. Otherwise it would have been wrong to kill her."

Lalon nodded. The kids were less certain. "Will it come after us?"

"It won't, Johan. This is her territory. She has a calf hidden back beyond the clearing."

"A calf?" Sam asked. "That thing's a mother rhino?"

"So she was just protecting her baby?" Asked Rin.

"Seem so."

Lugh ticked his chin toward the southeast. "There will be a Bounty Hunter, Sally Two-Knives will coming through here today or tomorrow. She can bring Benny back home, if you can't handle this."

Everyone had the Famous Infected Card for Sally Two-knives. She was a bounty hunter who worked mostly out of the towns farther north. She was a tall, dark-skinned woman with a Mohawk and a matched pair of army bayonets strapped to her thighs. The text on the card of her read:

**Card No. 239: Sally Two-knives. This former Roller-Derby queen has become one of the toughest and most reliable bounty hunters and guides in the Ruins. Don't cross her or you'll find out just how good she is with her two razor-sharp knives!**

Like most of the Famous Infected Cards, it didn't give a lot of information, but Sam always liked the fierce woman's smiling face. She wasn't pretty, but there was humor in her brown eyes.

"Alright, let's move."

Killeen turned and looked at the others, then frowned. "Where is Benny?"

They all turned, each of them realizing that Benny isn't with them anymore.

Benny was nowhere in sight.

"This day cannot get any worse," Lugh said under his breath.

Sam shot him a look. He cupped his hands and called Benny's name.

The echoes bounced around and came back empty.

"Oh, come on," growled Lalon with mounting frustration. "Somebody that smart can't possibly be this dumb."

"Maybe he went somewhere to go to the bathroom," suggested Sam. "Benny's pretty shy about that stuff... so maybe he-"

"Went to the bathroom where?" Vix complained. "There are bushes everywhere he could squat behind."

"He was pretty upset," said Rin. "Maybe he just wanted to be alone."

Lalon turned to her and gave her a long, withering stare. "Alone? In the Ruins? In a bloody war on the KillGames?"

She flushed bright red and immediately started calling Benny's name again.

Johan shot Rin an evil look. "Are all boys this stupid?"

"Hey!" Said Killeen.

Lalon cursed with great vehemence for several seconds. "I am so going to kill him. I'm going to drag him back to town and chain him to his own front porch."

"I'll help," offered Sam, who was as angry as he was scared.

Vix looked from the tree line to the sun and back again. "Damn it." She turned to the others. "Okay, everyone spread out. Find Benny's footprints. He has those wedge-soled boots. Keep your weapons in hand and stay in sight with at least one person. You find anything, call out. Go!" 

The rest moved out.

 _He's gone, Mal's gone_ , whispered Sam's inner voice. _This day couldn't get worse._

"Come on, you monkey-banger," Sam muttered aloud as he scanned the dirt and picked his way up through an animal path, "stop screwing around."

Then he found something that froze the blood in his veins. He straightened and yelled as loud as he could.

"HERE!"

Everyone came running. Sam saw the flash of sunlight on Lugh's ax as he ran up from his left, and the glitter on the wicked edge of Lalon's spear as he closed in from the right. Vix and the kids puffed behind him. They all stopped and stared. No one said a word. The words had already been said.

They were scraped onto the side of a slab of rock pushed almost vertical by tree roots. Benny had left them a message. Two words.

_I'm sorry._

Sam stopped as movement caught his eye far to the north. A flick of birds leaped out of the distant trees like a cloud of locusts. They swirled and eddied in the air and then gradually settled back down among the dark green leaves.

"What was that?" Asked Max, catching the sudden jerk of Sam's head but missing what he was looking.

"Just some birds," Killeen said. Even so, Sam continued to stare.

"Where?" Vix said and Sam pointed at the long shadows cast by the western line of trees.

"It's got to be Benny," decided Lugh. "Direction's right. Could be heading for the northern trade route."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. Tom had made them study every route and path in the Ruins.

Johan chewed her lip. "Lalon, do you think Benny's trying to go back home?"

"Sure. Where else would he go? The question has always been how. There are fifty ways to get to Fairview from here, and all we know for sure is that he isn't going the way we came."

Lalon's jaw brunches and flexed. "You guys continue to the station. I'll be finding the numbskull. I've been hunting these forest for many years. Besides, Benny showed me what he is after in the incident in Fairview. I want to help him more. If I'm not back in twenty-four hours, Vix you lead the rest and follow the Saviors once they get to the hotel."

He patted his vest pockets to reassure himself that he had everything he needed.

"Here," Lalon handed a small crowbar to Killeen. "Stand tough, little man."

"Be careful."

"I will. You kids, you've learned a lot in these many years. I see in the future grow up, strong and smart, becoming like us."

Rin comes up and hugs him as Johan leads behind as well. Max gave a nod with his chin. "You take care of them."

"I promise."

Lalon turned and began running along the line of trees. He moved with an oiled grace that was deceptively fast. Within seconds he was nearly to the tree line; within minutes he was gone, swallowed up by the darkening forest.


	47. Chapter 43

Negan left the old road and went by himself with Tom along the way as the Saviors head down to find other hunters. They found what used to be a highway, so they turned and followed that. Despite the fact that Negan was mustered with energy to look left and right, left and right, checking every shadow under every tree for some sign of movement, he was more looking for any signs of Mal. She never really made her promise of staying with Negan and maybe never. He understand her grief and revenge, but risking yourself to die.

 _I can't allow that_ , he told himself, but his inner voice- the less emotional and more rational aspect of his mind- replied, _If you hurry your ass up to get to her_.

"Who is Preacher Jack? Never heard of him before."

"Preacher Jack is somewhat new," Tom said. "Lived through the Black Night. I got a description of Dreaded Skillz and he works on the Wawona hotel."

"I think we'll have to watch our asses," suggested Negan.

"And you are right."

Suddenly crossing over to an old building, once to be a small gas station with a restaurant, and there's a body laying on the overgrown grass, a stab in the man's throat.

Inside the store was a massacre of many bodies, bodies of Bounty Hunters that would be working with the KillGames and White Bear. Their bodies strewn in various rooms, the hallway, the main store; one man lay by his mangled feet as Negan went over to the blood to inspect, his blood pooling and staining the floor beneath his lifeless body.

He chuckled. "Mal did this."

"Mal?"

"She fought these men. She's the only person who likes to brutally murder a man's penis." He pointed at the man's crotch, split apart from an upward swing.

"What?" Tom said, confused blindly. Negan didn't answer back.

He went further outside, hoping she isn't far enough.

When he gets to the lot of used to be a parking lot for employs, a cold metal lightly pressures on his neck. Raising his arms in surrender, but not letting the fucker take a hold of Ellie.

"Negan?" A soft, surprising familiar voice made Negan's heart ache.

She takes her machete away from Negan's neck. She looked like a crazed person, her machete is covered in blood, a fee bruises on the line of her jaw and splatter of blood grazed on her cheek. Both of them stare in surprise, happiness, and most importantly, awkwardness. He felt weird and so conflict as Mal smiled but didn't look at him in the eye. He tentatively reach his hand to wipe the blood off her cheek with his thumb, hoping there's some recognition of their friendship, their time to show their feelings, and their kiss. She twitched a smile but it faded.

When Negan was about to open his mouth Tom intervenes. "Mal? What happened with the others?" Tom interrupted and Mal replies.

"The group is fine. Was chased by a mother rhino-"

"Are you OK?" Negan said worriedly.

"I'm fine. Then found a few hunters that were talking about the children and bets, so I had to do it. Kill them and had no answers. Let's go, you guys are probably close to the monk station."

As they walk back to the highway, the more he thought about his own actions towards Mal. He'd been kicking himself for the last hours over kissing her, he'd already classed their relationship as inappropriate especially given the less than fucking decent thoughts he'd had about her. Kissing her had made it a thousand times worse, it wasn't just crossing the line it was shitting on it as he took a running leap over it. Knowing what he knows now, he wondered whether what Charlie had done had influenced their relationship at all. He had no idea how Charlie had messed with her head, had she only kissed him out of some obligation or had she really wanted to do it? Did Mal genuinely have feelings for him or was she just picking up on Negan's own inclinations? He quickly dismissed that last thought, at the very least he'd always kept his feelings under control around her. He made a promise to himself to keep a distance in the future, keep any romantic elements out of their relationship until they both knew what Mal wanted. Fuck, until they both knew what they wanted, even Negan was confused by his feelings. He wasn't going to lie, Mal was attractive, thinking about screwing her didn't exactly come as a surprise to him but the feelings that had grown were definitely a shock to the system. It was love, it was more of a feeling of finding someone that matched him, someone that he couldn't help but want to be around all the damn time. He wants to love her, but what is her feelings.

Negan shook his head. He was really a fucking mess and need a talk about this.

They walked another few paces as the road bent around a hill.

Around the bend were dozens of cars and trucks that had been pushed to the side of the main road, which left a clear path down the center. Some of the cars had tumbled into the drainage ditch that ran along one side. Others were smashed together. There were skeletons in a few of them.

"Who pushed the cars out of the way?" Asked Mal.

"Probably a tank," said Tom. "Or a bulldozer. Before they nuked the cities, back when they thought this was a winnable war." He gestured to the line of broken card, many of them nearly invisible behind clumps of shrubbery. "This is a well-traveled route. Traders an other people out here. All these cars have been checked for Infected a hundred times."

Mal wasn't fooled, and she gave Tom a sly smile. "Which doesn't mean they're safe. We have to check them every time, don't we?"

Tom gave her an approving nod. "That's the kind of thinking-"

"-that's going to keep us alive," finished Negan irritably.

As the sun began edging toward the western tree line, they crested a hill and looked down a long dirt side road to where an old gas station sat beneath a weeping willow.

"Take a closer look," suggested Tom, handing Mal a pair of high-power binoculars.

Mal focused the lenses and studied the scene. The surrounding vegetation was dense with overgrowth, but there was a broad concrete pad around the cluster of small buildings. An ancient billboard stood against the wall of trees. It had long ago been whitewashed, and someone had written hundred of lines of scripture on it. Rain had faded the words so that only a few were readable.

"This is Brother David's place." Negan said.

"It's him and two girls. Sister Shanti and Suzanne."

"And Old Roger," added Tom.

"Who?" Mal asked.

"He's an Infected they taken care of."

Mal nodded but didn't comment.

They descended along a path that ran beside a mammoth line of white boulders dumped there ages ago by a glacier. A thin stream of water trickled between the rocks, but it was so small that it made no sound. Then Negan stopped them with a raised fist.

He scanned the terrain for a moment.

"Is everything okay?" Tom asked.

"Something's off." Negan said guardedly

"Is there?" Said an unfamiliar voice. They all whirled as a strange stepped out of the woods right behind Mal.

"Little gal's fast with a pigsticker."

The stranger seemed to have stepped out of nowhere and was in the gap between a game trail that vanished into the shadowy woods. He was a tall broad-shoulder man but very thin man in a dusty black coat and wide-brimmed black hat. Long white hair hung like strands of spiderweb from under the brim of his hat, and he wore a smile that twitched and writhed on his thin lips like works on a hot griddle.

Mal was so startled that out of pure reflex she snatched up her machete and swing the blunt end toward him. The man was at least sixty, and he looked dried up from the hot sun and bitter winters of the Sierras, but he moved like greased lighting. He titled out of the swing of the machete, snaked out his left hand in a moment that was so fast Negan could not follow, snatched the machete from her hand, and flung it into the woods. Without pausing, the man shoved Mal on the shoulder with the flat of his palm and sent her crashing. Tom and Negan was up where Negan has the bat in his hands. But then the man did something Negan would have thought to be completely impossible. Before Tom could complete his cut with his dagger, the man in the black hat had stepped into the arc of his swing, blocked the elbow of Tom's dragged, and put the wicked edge of his own knife against the bulge of Tom's Adam's apple. Negan froze, both their guns at the man.

"My, my, my," said the man softly, his smile never wavering, "ain't we all in a pickle?"

Instantly Tom pivoted, slapped the knife away from his throat, spun like a dancer, and swung the blade in a lighting-fast circle that stopped a hair breathed from the man's nose.

The man looked cross-eyes at the tip of the blade and gave a comical chuckle. He slowly raised his knife and gave the dagger a small tap. The _ping!_ of the metal against metal lingered in the still air.

"Let's call it one-all and say the rest of the game was rained out," suggested the stranger. Without waiting to see if Tom and Negan agreed, the man rolled the handle of his knife through his fingers like a magician and slid the ten-inch blade into a sheath that hung from his belt.

"Okay," said Mal, still holding her gun out, "who are you?"

"Would you mind lowering your weapons, brothers and sister?" The white-haired man held his hands up and kept smiling. The smile did not quite reach the man's ice-blue eyes. "We're all friends here."

Negan said, "'Friend' is a funny word for someone who fuckin' attacks a girl."

The man looked- or pretended to look- shocked. "As I recall it, brother, she tried to rearrange my dentures with the butt end of yonder machete. I gave her a little shove by way of increasing out distance and decreasing the likelihood of my having to eat my dinner without teeth henceforth. Then you men here set to drawing weapons on me. I drew my knife only to calm things down." His look of shock gradually drained away, and his mouth again wore that twitchy smile. He patted his sheathed knife. "And see... I stood down."

No one lower their weapons. Not one inch.

"I asked you your name," she said quietly.

"These days people seem to have a bunch of names, don't they."

Mal said nothing.

"Okay, okay." The man chuckled. "You're being serious here 'cause you're the grown-up and there is a kid watching I respect that. Like a shepherd with his little lamb."

"Name," prompted Tom.

"When I came yowling into the world I was called John. Biblical name. Means 'God's grace,' which is a kindly to name a baby who ain't yet done a thing worth being remembered for." He removed his black hat and looked at Mal. "I'm happy to make your acquaintance, malady, and at the same time I beg forgiveness for my rudeness and gruff ways. Please accept my apology, which is earnestly and humbly given." He bowed low, almost sweeping the ground with his hat. As he rose, he caught Negan with a grin and a wink. "You look like a man of great dictatorship, and that bat of yours marks you a Bounty Hunter. As you for, a traveling man, as a trader guard or Bounty Hunter like him. So you've probably heard the name I go by."

"Which is?"

The man straightened and opened the flap of his coat to reveal the worn cover of a Bible tucked halfway into the inner pocket. "Preacher Jack."

Negan's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're Preacher Jack."

"Yes sir, I am, in both flesh and spirit. You have heard of me, then?"

"We know some of the same people," murmured Tom. "Dreaded Skillz, DJ Derby, Solomon Jones. Lot of people in my trade pass through Wawona."

A light suddenly seemed to ignite in Preacher Jack's blue eyes, and it seemed to Mal as if the man went pale. The preacher looked at Tom, giving him a thorough up-and-down appraisals, and then turned to look at Mal and Negan. Each time his eyes shifted to another person, Mal thought he could see that strange light flicker in the old man's eyes. All of this happened in the space of a few seconds, but the whole temperature of the day seemed to change. The only thing that stayed the same was the preacher's wriggling smile.

"Well, well, well. What a blessed day, sir, and of you ever put that meat skewer down I'd like to shake your hand, because I do believe I know who you are. Yes, sir. Tough-looking man, early forties with brown curly hair and blue eyes. A Colt Python and a recurve bow. I would bet my last ration dollar that you are none other than Tom. Tom the Hero. Tom of the Woods. Fast Tommy. Tom the Killer."

Tom slowly lowered his dagger. "I don't use nicknames," he said softly.

"No, not like most folks. And I have a feeling you're the famous Negan. The man you hear the name from every folk, a bat to bring unholy grief," said Preacher Jack, pushing a strand of white hair from his face. "After the Black Night, most of the folks who live out here were more than happy to shed their family naked the way a serpent will shed its skin. Face them a chance to stop being who they were. Gave them a chance to be reborn as different people. Sometimes much better people. Sometimes not, but you'd know all about that, Brother Tom, Brother Negan."

Negan grunted as Tom resheathed his dagger. Everyone else seemed to let out a breath at the same time, and Mal lowered her gun as Negan did. Not that anyone could have done much. It still amazed and baffled everyone how this grizzled old man could be as lightning fast as Tom. And besides that, why was a preacher able to handle a knife like a professional fighter?

"Most of those nicknames," Tom said, "were hung on me by people who don't really know me."

Mal caught the careful way Tom was speaking. Tom may have put his dagger away, but he was still on ground.

"I'll call you whatever name pleases you, brother," said Preacher Jack, holding out his hand. "I've heard many interesting and fabulous things about you, brother Negan. And I would like to shake you by your hand, yes sir I would."

Negan ignored the hand and used his chin to point to the dead man. "You know anything about these people?" Blurted Mal.

Preacher Jack swiveled his head like praying mantis to look at her. "Now is that a fact, girlie-girl?"

"Don't call me that," Mal snapped.

"Oh, I am sorry. Is that phrase offensive to you?"

Before Mal could serve up an acid reply, Tom said, "We're asking if you've seen these people and know anything."

"No, Brother Tom," said Preacher Jack, "I can't say as I do. I never laid eyes on these poor sinners before."

Negan almost smiled. "Sinner? If you haven't seen them before, then his do you know they were sinners?"

"We're all sinners, Brother Negan. Each and every living, breathing resident of this purgatory. Even humble men of the cloth such as my own self. Sinners all. Only the Children of Lazarus are pure of heart and immaculate of soul."

"How's that work?" Asked Mal skeptically. "They eat people."

"They are meek raised up from death to inherit this new Garden of Eden." He opened his arms wide to include the green and overgrown expanse of the Ruins. "They have been reborn in the blood of the old world, washed clean of their sins, and they now walk in the light of redemption. It is only us, the dwindling few, who cling to old ways of sin and heresy and godlessness."

Mal stepped forward. Her eyes looked a bit jumpy, and Negan realized that she was probably unnerved by having her weapon taken away from her so easily. "You are saying that we are all sinners? That we deserve whatever happens to us?"

"It's not what I am saying, little miss; it's what the Good Book says."

"We're out here on personal business," said Tom mildly. "Family business. We don't discuss that business with strangers."

"Is that what we are, Brother Tom?" Asked Preacher Jack with a hint of reproach in his voice. "Are we strangers?"

Tom said, "If we'd met in town or at Wawona, or in the Sanctuary or one of the way stations, then I support I'd feel comfortable enough to swap stories. That's not the case. I find a man tortured and fed to the dead and these men from something personal. That's suspicious. Then you step out of nowhere."

"I-"

Tom stopped him with a raised hand. "Let me finish. I offer no hostility and mean no disrespect, but I am not in a potion to trust a stranger." He nodded toward Mal and Negan. "Manners are going to have to take a backseat to common sense and safety."

"So I see."

"I'm going to ask one more time... do you know anything about these people are?"

Preacher Jack hooked his thumbs into his belt, and Mal noted that this put the heel of his right hand pinned of his knife. Having seen how fast the man could draw that knife, Mal had no illusions that the gesture was accidental. He carefully tightened his grip on the gun.

"I don't believe that I have any of the answers you seek," murmured the man in the dusty coat.

"Then I think we're fucking done here." Negan said.

"Done with me or done with these poor sinners?"

"With both." Tom took a small step back.

Preacher Jack nodded. "Perhaps we'll meet again under more pleasant circumstances."

"That would be nice, sir, but unlikely. You see, we're heading east."

For the first time Preacher Jack's smile flickered. "What? You've leaving these mountains? When will you be coming back?"

"We don't expect that we will." Growled Negan.

That wipes the smile completely from the preacher's face. He looked disappointed and even a little bit angry at this news, and Mal watched Negan as he watched the change in Preacher Jack's expression.

"Something wrong?" Asked Tom, his own face and voice neutral.

The smile returned, tentatively at first and then with all its twitchy vibrancy. "Wrong? Why, no, except that it would surely have been a blessing to sit, break bread, and try this whole meeting again in a more civilized way. I fear we got ourselves off on the wrong door here. Knives and hard word and all."

Now Tom smiled, and it looked genuine, at least to Mal.

"Yeah." Tom laughed. "I guess this wasn't the most genial encounter." He shrugged. "On the other hand, it could have been worse."

"Yes," said Preacher Jack with a glitter in his eyes, "it surely could have."

They stood there, eight feet apart with a dead man lying on the ground between them, and Mal had the impression that there were all sorts of conversations going on at the same time. Words that were not being spoken but that were mutually understood. Except to Mal and, from the look on his face, Negan as well.

Preacher Jack bowed to Mal. "If by word or deed I have done anything to offend you fine lady," he said, removing his hat and bowing low once more, "then I am truly sorry and most humbly beg forgiveness. The Ruins is not a charm school, and in hard times we often forget who we are and where we came from."

Mal said nothing, but her baby blue eyes lost some of their intensity. She have a single curt bob of her head.

Preacher Jack turned to Tom. "Peace to you, brother."

He fixed Negan with a knowing smile. "I won't offer my hand again, Brother Negan, for fear that it will once more be left hanging in that wind. So I'll tip my hat and bid you all a farewell. May the Good Lord keep you from snakes and snares and the evil that men do."

With that the preacher replaced his hat, rugged his lapels to adjust the hand of his jacket, and walked back into the woods, where he vanished so quickly into the shadows that the whole encounter might have been a dream. Negan, Tom, and Mal stood where they were for a full five minutes, listening first for Preacher Jack's soft footfalls and then to the forest as the ordinary sounds one by one returned.

Mal let out a chestful of air and turned to Tom. "What was that all about?"

"I really don't know," said Tom

"I think it's a good idea if we all watch out backs from that creepy ass smile fucker," suggested Negan. "We're burning daylight. Let's head inside the way station."

They came down onto the concrete pad, on which the single gas pump stood like a great rusted tombstone to a dead culture. Tom knocked loudly on the pump's metal casing. The echoes bounced off the hills and came faintly back to them before melting into silence.

There was no response. Tom narrowed his eyes. He walked carefully to the front door of the station and knocked. Nothing. "Brother David!" He called.

Absolutely nothing.

Scowling, Tom brought the others and drew their weapons out.

He reached for the door handle, it turned easily, and the door swung inward. Tom drew his pistol, Mal her machete, and Negan with his chain mended bag, and loved silently inside.

However as they entered, there was no need of caution.

"Where is everyone?" Whispered Mal.

Negan shook his head and took a few tentative steps into the room.

Most of the front part of the station was a set up for trading and an attempt at comfort. There were folding chairs, a wood-stove, and a table for meals. The rest of the way station had been converted into living quarters for the monk and the two female disciples. There were bedrolls and plastic milk crates that served as bureaus and night tables. Sheet were strung in clothesline to provide marginal privacy. Garlands of flowers and herbs were hung from pegs set into the walls.

"Where are they?" Negan asked, a bit timid on the abandon station.

"Negan, check the sheds."

He nodded and slipped out the door without a word. It annoyed Mal a bit that Tom never asked her to do something like that- she single handily killed men with armed guns- but this wasn't the time to start an argument.

She crossed to the stove and looked into the pots, then held her hand above the burners. "It's cold, but there's food in the pot. Hasn't gone bad yet."

"Teacups on the table," said Ton. "Looks like all their stuff back there:" he knelt and picked up a pair of reading glasses. One of the lenses was cracked from add to side. "Brother David's." He frowned. "And there's more. I sent a load of supplies here. Carpet coats, tents, cooking gear, extra rations, and some weapons. I don't see any of it here."

The door opened and Negan came in. "Someone broke the lock on the freaky Old Roger's shed. He's gone... tracks lead east."

"How long?" Asked Tom.

"Late morning."

Tom nodded again. "I think that's when everyone left."

They stood in the dusty sunlight, thinking that through, silently letting the implications shout at them.

"Okay... we don't have enough daylight left to leave more," said Negan. "And I sure as hell don't want to sleep up in the hills tonight. Rather not get my ass raped by that creepy fucker or worse."

Mal resheathed her gun and machete in her holster. "We hole up here and fortify this place."


	48. Chapter 44

The first thing they did was find strong and lengths of rope and construct a network of lines around the gas station. Mal gathered cans from the rubbish heap out back and buckets full of small stones. Negan used a hammer and awl from Brother David's tool to punch holes through the cans. Then Mal strung the cans on the taut lines and filled each one with a few stones. She strung the lines at various heights so that any Infected or Runner would walk right into them, and the sound of the stones rattling in the cans would be clear and loud. The strings of cans would hopefully trip up a human sneaking up in the dark. There was some starlight but no moon, and the tripwires were virtually invisible once the sun was down.

Once it was done, it's only Mal and Negan and Tom inside the station. "Mal?" Negan prompted. "Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"About what happened the night? The night we kissed."

"I... what do you want me to say?" She asked. She knew she'd said the wrong thing when she heard the loud sigh.

"Mal this damn well isn't about what I want to hear. It's about you tellin' me why you've been avoiding me right now."

She rubbed at her face, she really was too tired for this conversation. She couldn't think. "This isn't the place to talk about it." Mal offered, hoping the reminder of where they were would give her a chance to escape.

"It seems to be the only place we can talk about it."

"We can talk another time." Mal turned, determinedly heading towards another tree to hang more up. She was stopped by a soft grip on her arm that made her baulk. "Please..." Head focused on the wood, eyes pointedly not looking over at Negan.

"Mal?" Negan was almost desperate with his protest.

It chipped at the veil between them. She reluctantly turned her head to face him, Mal melting at the pleading look in his eyes as they finally locked together. "Negan...I...." She was at a loss for words, unable to come up with a decent explanation for what had happened.

"Mal, c'mon it's me. We can talk about it. Please, please don't shut me out again. What happened?"

His words broke Mal, she pathetically replied. "Because you confused me."

"What?" Bafflement etched over Negan's face. "I confused you? How?" Negan finished.

"You didn't...I don't... it's hard to explain."

"Try."

"Negan." Now she was the one pleading. "Let's get inside before it's dark." The sunset is not dwindling, having loads of time.

"No, I want answers Mal. I deserve them."

"No, you don't." Mal snapped back at him, it was like an echo of their previous conversation. That familiar rage building at another demand of him.

"Yes, I do." Negan pushed back, stepping closer to her, staring her down.

Mal hated how those damn dark eyes searched her, it felt like they were piercing down into her soul. "It's none of your business."

"None of my business?" An incredulous laugh filled the forest, Negan's voice hushed when he spoke again. "If you kissing me makes you run away then it damn well is my business."

"It wasn't that."

"Then what was it?"

She huffed at him, sick of this damn conversation, sick of herself for making it necessary to have it. "It confused me because of you. Because I know you and what I feel isn't gonna be true."

Negan took a step back, visibly recoiling at his words. "Wha-"

Mal swallowed hard. "I have... feelings for you, like you- I don't know what they are. I've never felt for someone before, and when we kissed it was so nice and memorable. But I had to doubt myself. Negan, the only person you cared for was Ellie, and no one else. You're a man that won't have feelings for someone again. Hell, you have many wives just for sex, nothing else. That's why you confuse me."

"Mal... I do indeed like you. Fuck, I've tried to avoid it, mostly because I felt like a pervert if you didn't like it, and had a wet dream about you. But, kissing you felt right. It had been...well, it had been a long while since I'd been intimate with another person like this. I could still remember the last time I had been kissed like that, really kissed. It had been Ellie, a few months after her diagnosis and shortly before her permanent admittance to the hospital and deteriorating condition had left her too sick and weary to do anything but accept gentle pecks on the lips or cheek. And maybe it was because it had been so damn long since I'd had another person that your gentle, ambling kisses left me so breathless and flushed. But, God, I wanted you. Wanted you the moment we've became friends and you came to my place for comfort. I tried not to, it was far, far too soon for that, but I did."

And then, looking at Mal in the moment, her clear blue eyes and look of awe and incredulity on her face, he couldn't hold it in. He hadn't even realized that he'd been holding it in, but he had- all at once, he knew, and he couldn't stop himself from saying it. "I love you, Mal. I fucking love you. And I'm gonna keep fucking loving you, whether or not you want me to give you your space or if- if you want to call whatever this is between us off." He reached out then, hand hovering, and when Mal pressed her cheek into the palm of his hand, Negan felt his chest tighten almost painfully. "I love you," he whispered again, because he felt like he couldn't say it enough. "I never thought I'd love someone like this again, but here you fucking are, Mal. And if you want me as- as a partner, or a friend, or what-the-fuck-ever, I'll take it. We're whatever you want us to be."

Mal's eyes shone then- bright, glistening, her face ardent in a way that Negan knew reflected the adoration on his own. When Mal leaned up and drew herself in close, when her lips found Negan's in a kiss that was far too gentle for Negan to feel like he'd been brought to his knees, he felt like a drowning man being saved.

"It's like you said." Mal's words were a lifeline, spoken sweet and precious against his lips. "You and me. I'm with you."

Affection painted their depths, warming Mal. "Can I kiss you, Mal?" Negan asked, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Yes," Mal breathed, squirming impossibly closer, already craving the other man's touch. "Yes, please."

Negan chuckled, cupping Mal's face in his palm. "You don't gotta say please, baby," he crooned, leaning in. "But I sure as hell don't mind it." And then Negan's lips were on her's, soft and warm, and Mal felt like she was suspended in time, weightless and free. Negan had this gentle, easy way of kissing her that made her feel precious and wanted. Warmth spread through her, and her hands roamed up Negan's back, scratching over flannel shirt. Negan made a noise then- something quiet and throaty and utterly involuntary, and Mal felt her whole body flush hotly at the sound of something so pleasure-filled. He nipped at Mal's lower lip, worrying it gently with his teeth, wanting to see it swollen and pink when they finally pulled away from each other.

And it was. Mal caught sight of it, along with a distinct pink tinge to Negan's cheeks when Negan drew back to gaze at her with adoration in his eyes.

"What the fuck?"

Tom stood in the middle, his stomach turned inside out. He couldn't believe it; the man he knew isn't what Negan was.

"Look-" Negan started, stopping the second the gun was aimed at him. Just as Negan stepped, Tom swung a punch and jumped at him, shoving him to the floor.

"Tom!" Mal screamed, trying to stop Tom from hurting Negan more.

"You bastard. How dare you."

"It's not what you think. I love her." Negan tried to console him, but Tom gritted his teeth. What kind of relationship did this man have with Mal?

"Stop it Tom. He's not doing anything."

"Is he being inappropriate?"

"NO! God no Tom. He's a good man."

"Look Mal it might seem like that but he could be-"

"Tom, no, just no. He's not like that."

"You sure about that? I know he has many wives and you're too young. I've seen men in the Ruins like this, and it is sick."

"No!" Mal practically shouted at him this time. "It's not Negan. He's not a rapist than..." Mal broke off.

"Than what?" Tom pushed, they were finally getting somewhere, he wasn't going to drop this now.

"Tom, I can't....I don't want to do this now." Mal begged.

Tom could feel her trembling under his hand when he grabbed her wrist, his stomach twisted with dread, what was Mal keeping from him? "Mal you gotta tell me now. I need to know what we're going into."

"Let her be, Tom. Don't pressure her to talk about it."

"Talk about what? And stay back." He growled, what does Negan know that Tom doesn't.

Mal didn't look at him, just stared longingly at him. Tom swallowed down his nerves, "So what does Negan know?"

"Negan isn't a rapist. Charlie Marion was and... h-he raped me Tom. Charlie raped me."

He didn't think he'd ever be able to describe how he felt in that moment. His body went numb, he dropped Mal's arm, his own limply falling to his sides. He stood there, shock filling him to the core, his body tensing trying to figure out just what the fuck to do. His first instinct was to laugh, pass it off as a stupid joke, this couldn't be right. His brain told him that there was no way it happened to Mal, his gut told him otherwise. He knew Mal, knew when she was lying. He knew rape, knew how it affected people, knew that rapists could be anyone. Hell he'd seen enough rape cases fall apart because people were too ignorant to believe certain people could be rapists.

How had he missed this? How many times had it happen? How long had it been going on for? Each question wanted to fall out of his mouth but none would. He was frozen until a small trembling voice broke him out of his mind. "Tom?"

He looked back at Mal, looked into those blue eyes, it hit him harder. Like a punch in the gut. His baby, she was hurting badly, she looked so scared. Tom wanted to make it better, wanted to pull her into his arms and protect her. He tried to speak, nothing would come out. What could he say?

"Mal..."

"Tom, please, I'm not lying, I swear I'm not." Mal was almost frantic with her words, Tom was confused as she watched her pull at her shirt up.

"Mal, what are yo-" He was stopped by the marks revealed to him. Were those...whip marks?

"He did this Tom, you have to believe me."

Tom nearly threw up as he caught sight of more marks, a glimpse of gauze appeared on Mal's back, just what was under there? This Charlie had done this? "Mal...I... do you even have to ask?" Christ, did Mal really think he wouldn't? Is that why she hadn't told him? He cursed himself for being so blind. The silence answered that question. Now wasn't the time to focus on his own failings, he had to focus on Mal. He gently gripped her shoulders, looking her in the eye as he spoke with conviction. "I believe you Mal, I will always believe you no matter what."

Mal nodded, he didn't seem quite ready for words.

"So Negan knows?"

"Yes." A small voice replied.

Tom nearly hit himself, Mal felt like she could tell a stranger over her old friend, her only family. He'd never felt like such a failure than in that moment. "Negan cares for me, helped me get passed my pain and terror."

"So you like him?"

"Yes. He's loves me too. Let's get inside, it's getting dark."

-:-:-:-:-

Mal slept as Tom was itching around the windows. Negan sat in silence, looking at Mal, whose not calm or in peace. Tom suddenly sat beside him; a friction of awkwardness surrounded them.

"I-I... How...what happened with her?"

"Do you want to know?" Negan said with concern, not wanting to describe the nightmare she went through the sickening fucker.

"Every. Detail. Please?"

There was a deep pause then it all came out. Every. Single. Detail. All the rapes, the beatings, the sordid comments. The single location in the Tradepost for a year where Charlie had hurt Mal, every occasion where Mal had to find her way out to use the Calvary Boys but always leads herself into the dark room, alone. He tried to run outside but he went into the corner and he threw up whatever there was of his dinner. It wasn't enough, not to clear the sickness he felt. The images of this man hurting Mal, his baby, swirled around in his mind. He wanted nothing more than to not exist in that moment, he'd failed so badly, failed his baby. The one he'd sworn to protect no matter what, he let her get hurt, let the Ruins hurt her.

"I helped her. When I first met her, I didn't see it at first. Coming towards Charlie he made seedy comments of her. I thought of him as a drunken man. Then she told me her dark secret, everything, and I was the only one she ever spoke out..." Negan was surprised to hear Tom voice cracking, he'd never seen Tom look so in pain.

"I failed her."

"Tom you didn-"

"Yes I did. I failed Mal. I was so busy caught up in my own shit that I didn't see her and she was spilled between my fingers and was alone for many years. She reminds me of my sister Melody and how I failed her. She's like my daughter, my sweet baby girl, I always promised I'd protect her and I failed."

It was like he broke after that, Negan watched him sink to his knees, tears springing up in his own eyes. "I hope she forgives me, I'm sorry, so sorry." He kept repeating it over and over. Negan pats and rubs on his shoulder, let him mend what had broken.

"She forgives you. And you haven't failed her. She has friends that support her, children that she had reached the same way you did, and a family with us in the Sanctuary. I mend her back in peace, been with her all the way. You haven't failed her. She is still the Mal she is."

"Maybe, but she has changed so much."

"She'd grown up to be a strong, intelligent, compassionate, dedicated, and independent woman. She's a survivor."

They gave each other sheepish smiles at their paranoia, both of them slightly embarrassed by their sudden show of emotion. Tom couldn't recall ever seeing Negan so emotional, but didn't cry because Negan kept holding back.

Tom sighed gathering strength. "You and Mal... there's somethin' goin' on there." His voice was matter of fact, no room for arguments, not that Negan would think of arguing after everything they'd been through that night.

"Yes. I tried to pass it off. But once we connected more, I cared more deeply about her."

"You sure it isn't just because she looks like... Ellie?"

Negan shook his head, chuckling. " _No_. Except the stubbornness. No, Mal is way different than Ellie. I had a hard time to move on, to find someone else to love, always thinking Ellie would go away and fucking hate my guts forever. But she wanted this for me. I do love Ellie very much, but I will and always love Mal from now on."

"I can't say that I'm happy about whatever is happening, if it is what I think it is then it's inappropriate but... the both of you obviously been there together and I can only assume that the reason you've been more like your usual self recently has something to do with him. So I'm willing to ignore the more illegal part-"

"I'll wait until she's eighteen."

Tom let out a chuckle. "-of whatever it is you two have I just have to check and you know why. And I see you care so much for her. I'll accept you to be her- _ugh_ \- boyfriend."

"I know. You're going to have get used to this, _father-in-law_. God, I can't say that shit. You're about the same age as me."

Tom rolled his eyes, laughing. "You're more older than me."

They laughed as they find themselves accepting each other, though Tom will need some time to get used to it.

_THUD!_

Something hit the front door. They froze, Mal awoken from her light sleep, eyes staring at the door, ears straining to hear. The wind tossed the treetops. There was no other sound, not even the crickets.

"What was that?" Demanded Mal.

Tom held a finger to his lips. Negan tightened his grip on the bat. Tom picked up his knife. They listened to the night. The crickets had stopped. They did that when they were startled, Mal knew. When they were afraid. When there was something there.

They waited, listening for sounds. Hoping to hear something.

_Thud!_

Anther blow against the door. The sound was both heavy and soft. Muffled. Like a fist wrapped in a towel. Or...

_Thud! Thud-thud!_

Or a hand flung loosely, without purpose or conscious control.

_Thud-thud-thud._

Whatever was beating on the door was not somebody. Of anyone alive.

Then they heard the moan.

The pounding continued. There was no rhythm to it, but each blow carried the same dead-weight force.

"How could a Infected get through the cans?" Mal whispered.

"Fuck," whispered Negan. "Someone else is out there. Someone alive."

_Thud! Thud!_

"We need to stop the Infected from making so much noise." Tom said.

"Negan," whispered Mal, "it could be Charlie out there."

She didn't let Negan finish, showing her teeth in a deadly smile.

Outside, the Infected continued to pound and pound and the endless wind blew like a black ocean. Negan closed the door on the stove and blew out the candles, plunging the room into total darkness except for a faint outline around the door etched by starlight. Mal fumbled for the door handle. She counted down from three and then pulled the door open as she leaped back out of the way.

The Infected was right there, framed by starlight. Tall, thin as a stick, and pale as wax, with cloudy eyes and a gaping rotting mouth. It lurched forward, reaching for Mal, but Tom jump-kicked the Infected in the chest, driving it backward out of the doorway. He went through the door like a flash of lightning. He caught up with the Infected and bent forward in a powerful one-handed thrust that drive the knife point into the base of the forehead. The Infected instantly stopped twisting and became completely still.

"God," Mal said, rising and pointing. "LOOK!"

Negan squinted to see what she's pointing at. Tom whirled and he too, stared in that direction.

There was plenty of starlight. More than enough to bathe the swaying trees in an eerie blue-white glow. Enough to see the lines of tin cans lying on the ground, the ropes cut and the cans carefully placed upright in neat rows. Somebody else was out here. Somebody smart and careful enough to disable the booby trap. But that was not the worst of it. Not by a long shot. What was truly eerie... no, truly terrifying... was how that cold moonlight reflected on the pale white faces of the living dead.

On the hundreds of living dead, shambled and limped and twitched as they emerged from the utter blackness of the forest.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal closed and locked the door. "It won't hold for long," she said quietly. "Same with the windows. That glass is old. It might last if a couple of them beat it... but there are hundreds of them out there."

"Where did they come from?" Tom demanded.

"Somebody drew them here."

Mal looked at the three carpet coats that hung from pegs by the door. She grabbed the coats belonging to Sister Shanti and Sister Suzanne and tossed them to the men. "Put these on!"

They immediately slipped on. "We have to get out of here," Mal said as she belted on Brother David's coat. She lifted the blankets and peered outside. The closet of the Infected was still about fifty feet away. "If we run, we have some chance." Tom fished in his pocket and pulled out the bottles of cadaverine. "We have these."

They each used a full bottle. The inside of the way station reeked as of it was stuffed to the rafters with rotting flesh.

At the door, Negan paused, took a deep breath. "We go slow." Negan opened the door.

A Infected stood there, arm raised to strike the glass. The grimy creature took a shambling step forward and passed them into the room. Tom drew a ragged breath and stepped cautiously outside. Negan went next, turning to squeeze by a lumbering fat man with a knife in his bloated neck. As Mal stepped into the doorway her shoe scuffed the floor and reached the edge of the concrete pad by the gas pumps. As they kept walking, Tom disappeared out of sight after an Infected snarled and tried to attack but he attack first and had to move pass them, leaving Negan and Mal together.

Mal stopped at the gas pumps, her hand slip into her jean pockets. The cadaverine bottles clinker, and then she found the oblong box she was looking for. It was made of stiff paper, and it rattled dryly as she removed it.

The Infected closet to her turned sharply and peered at her with dust-covered eyes.

The Infected moaned.

Mal moaned back and shuffled a few feet to the left. The Infected stood there and watched her go. The dead could not show confusion on their slack faces, but Mal could almost feel the creature's conflict. The impulse to hunt only the living was at war with the stench of decay. It swayed there in indecision as Mal took another shuffling sideways step. The grey eyes never left Mal's face.

 _Hurry_. Moving with infinite slowness, Mal thumbed open the little cardboard box. Twenty-five pale stick matches lay in tight rows. She used her thumbnail to separate one of them. The Infected was still watching her. So were two others. Watching? Or just standing?

The carpet coat was hot, but ice-cold sweat ran in rivulets down the back of Mal's shirt. Her heart pounding so hard she could not understand why it didn't sound like a bass drum. She turned her head slightly and saw that Negan was still there, and she wondered how much time had just passed. Was it three seconds? Ten? An hour? Or no time at all? She couldn't tell. Nothing felt real.

_Hurry!_

She paused, then placed the first match between her teeth and removed another. She thumbed the box closed and turned it between her fingers, exposing a dark strip on one side. The matches were of the "storm" kind, coated with wax to keep them waterproof, with a chemical mix that would keep them burning in rain or wind.

"God... let this work!" She said it aloud, and she said it too loud. The watching Infected suddenly lurched forward, its rubbery lips twitching. The abruptness of its movement made the creatures around it twitch and turn and move in Mal's direction.

Mal put the white tip of the matches against the strike board and flicked her wrist. The fire was small, but in the darkness of the field it flared like a tiny sun. The snap of ignition and the hiss as the flames consumed the chemicals were shockingly loud.

"No!" Negan cried, and some of the Infected turned towards him.

But many, many more of them were entirely focused on Mal. Holding the match out in front of her, she stared for a moment in nearly brainless shock as the light revealed the full horror of the moment. Hundreds of white faces had turned toward the sound and the flare of light. Their awful moans split the air. The closet Infected grabbed her arm, and before Mal could pull away it bit down with savage force on her wrist. Two others closed on her and grabbed at her other arm. Teeth closed around her forearm. The pain was instant and terrible.

Mal bit down on a scream, praying that the carpet coat was protecting her from the disease carried by the bites of the living dead. She kicked out with all her force, catching the closet Infected with a flat-footed thrust to the thought that sent it lurching away. It lost its hold on her wrist, but immediately another Infected lumbered past it, reaching for the prize.

_Now! NOW!_

Mal tore herself free of the other Infecteds and darted forward as the Infected closed on her. She prayed with all her might that the match wouldn't go out. It puffed and flickered in the breeze. She had the stick of the other clamped between her teeth just in case. The Infected reached for her, and Mal ducked under the pale hands, thrusting the match into the tattered folds of its clothes. In a flash the dry shreds of tie and suit jacket caught and flames shot up into the night. With a grunt of effort powered by rage and fear, Mal shoved the burning Infected into the other creatures who had been closing in. They were all dry as kindling, and fire leaped from one to the other with frightening speed, sparks carried by the night wind. Within seconds a half-dozen Infected were burning.

Mal whipped the other match from between her teeth and lit it as another wave of Infected closed in on her from behind. She used her forearm to bash aside the grasping hands and jabbed the match into the lace of a gown, the folds of a loose cardigan, the ripped streamed of a halter top, the coattails of waiter's jacket. The match burned her fingers, and she dropped it.

"MAL!" She heard Negan's piercing cry and whirled to see flames shoot behind her. It took her a numb second to understand how the fire could have jumped that far, and then she realized Negan had seen what she was doing, and he had done the same. She almost laughed out loud. He ducked and bashed his bat to fend off a burning Infected.

Then Mal drew her machete and swing with all the force she possessed, hitting a burning Infected on the side of the neck. The Infected fell hard into two others, and they immediately caught fire. A wall of heat slammed into her, and the laugh died in her throat.

"Uh-oh," she said aloud. The sound of her voice didn't matter now. The roar of the fire was immense, the heat like an open furnace.

"MAL!"

She turned and had to squint through the yellow glare to see Negan moving at a dead run toward the southeast. Something touched her shoulder, and Mal screamed.

The first Infected- the one she'd kicked- had just grabbed her with a burning hand. Intense white-hit agony shot through Mal's shoulder as the fiery fingers ignited the fabric of the carpet coat.

Mal shrieked in pain and swung the machete with all her force. The Infected's head exploded into thick flaming pieces and the creature fell away. But its hand still clutched the fabric of Mal's coat. Mal kicked and slapped and hammered at the Infected's arm until the blackened fingers fell away. She slapped at the flames on her shoulder. The carpet coat was old but not as sun-dried as the rags the Infected wore, but as she beat out the last dancing fingers of fire, she could feel burns on the skin of her shoulder and upper arm. If it hasn't been for the thick fabric of the coat...

Then another hand grabbed her and she whirled, raising the machete to strike, but it was Negan. His face was black from smoke, and his eyes wild.

"COME ON!" He growled, and dragged her away. Heat pounded them like fists on all side, and the air itself was becoming too hot to breathe.

"Where's Tom?" She yelled.

"I don't know. God- we have to go!"

They ran. The Infected were drawn to the massive flames, and as they crowded toward the commotion, more and more of them caught fire.


	49. Chapter 45

Sam screamed.

Max looked up. He saw a Infected... and screamed. The RK's and Sam head into a trap of a herd that heard the sound of the gunfire and cornered everyone. Vix and Lugh fend off while Sam and the kids run past the herd, but more appeared out of the forest.

The Infected lay in the tall weeds inches from them. It did not scream. It snarled.

Then it lurched forward and tried to bite Sam's face.

Rin grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back, and the creature's teeth but only empty air where Sam's cheek had been. Sam flung himself backward, pushing Rin and himself away from the rotting teeth of the Infected and the reaching white hands, but he wasn't fast enough. One hand closed around his left sneaker, and the teeth chomped down on the runner toe. Sam howled in agony as his toe was crunched between the Infected's jagged teeth.

 _God! Am I bit? Am I bit? An I bit?_ The litany of dread played over and over in his head.

Max swung his foot and kicked the Infected in the face. Old bone cracked and rotted teeth snapped and then Sam was free as Max stab his knife into the base of the skull.

Sam scrabbled backward and turned to see a sight that threatened to tear his souls out of him. A second Infected had crawled out of the weeds and attacked Rin. It had once been a huge woman, and it wore the black-and-white tags of a nun's habit. There were two bullet holes in its cheek, but they were ancient and the bullets had missed the spine or brain. The Infected had pinned Rin to the ground by the shoulders and was bending to take a bite that would destroy everything good and wonderful in the RK's, the kids, and Sam's world.

Rin's face was covered in bright red blood. A black snake of terror reared inside Sam's chest, the kids gasped in horror. But Sam's rage was bigger than his fear.

"RIN!"

Johan bellowed, and Killeen screamed a great unintelligibly shriek of denial as Sam launched himself at the Infected. His bokken lay forgotten in the weeds. He did not even think of pulling his knife. He crossed his arms over his face and slammed into the Infected, hitting it like a thunderbolt.

"Get away from her!"

The impact knocked the Infected backward, as it fell in a hissing, snarling tangle, rolling over and over as Rin's scream filled the air. Killeen brought his spear and swung.

 _CRACK_!

The top half of the Infected's head seemed to disintegrate and the creature immediately went limp. With a snarl of disgust.

"Oh my God!"

Sam scramble to his feet and looked around, and he feel the blood drain from his face as he beheld a scene out of his darkest nightmares.

The whole field of tall grass in which they stood was filled with Infected. Dozens of them. They lay between the weeds and snarls of wisteria, empty eyes fixed on them, hands reaching, mouth working. Their moans filled the air.

But they were all broken. Shattered legs and hips. Shattered spines. Missing limbs. Huge holes torn through their chests and stomachs. Sam and the kids were surrounded by a legion of crippled Infected's. They wriggled forward on broken limbs or grabbed tufts of grass to haul their twisted wrecks of bodies toward the fresh meat.

"What is this?" Max breathed, horrified.

Sam drew his bokken, and they stood back to back with no clear way out. There had to be two dozen of the monsters. No... more than that. Much more. Others were climbing like grey slugs over fallen logs or out of depressions in the ground. Fifty of them. Sixty. More. All those dusty eyes and black mouths and rotted teeth. The dead cried out in rusted voices as they pulled themselves toward the smell of fresh meat and flowing blood. The terrible need, the awful hunger in that moan made Sam's blood turn to ice water in his veins. It was such an ancient sound, old as all the pain and misery in the world.

"We have to get out of here," Sam whispered. He knew that the words were pointless, their meaning obvious, but there was a need in him to hear a human voice amid the dreadful wails of the dead.

A few hundred yards to their left, they hear the shouts of Vix and Lugh

"Let's get out of here."

Rin dragged her forearm over her face to clear the blood from her eyes. "How?" Johan asked.

Sam licked his lips and took a firmer grip on his sword. "Fast and hard," he said.

He swung his sword and smashed the closet of the infected, cracking the hardwood edge of the bokken against its temple. It flopped to one side, and Sam jumped over it. A dozen withered hands grabbed at his sneakers and pants cuffs, but Sam kicked and stamped as if he was being swarmed by cockroaches.

"Come on!" Max shouted, but the kids was already running past him and Sam. Johan notched and release through her bow, Rin punctured through her Swiss knife, Killeen swished down and cracked and another Infected spun away, its jaw crushed.

They ran and struck and ran. The blood on Rin's face scared Sam so much his heart felt like ice.

_Had she been bitten?_

_His toe hurts terribly._

_Are we bitten?_

_Are we dead?_

"Sam!" A gruff voiced screamed at him. Before an Infected was about to topple over top of him, an arrow punctured through the head, and in the distance is Alec, reloading his crossbow. "Fight!"

He bit down on his fear and swung the sword. It cracked against a reaching hand and shattered the wrist. He swung again and a Infected who looked like he might have been a solider flopped over on his back, his neck knocked askew. Sam swung and hit; Killeen swung and hit, Johan and Rin and Max stab; and all the time they screamed and loved and fought.

"That way!" Cried Max, shoving him with his shoulder. Sam pivoted to see a narrow gap in the sea of crawling monsters. He pushed him in front of him.

"Go!"

He went, the kids behind him, running and jumping.

A pair of Infected- a grocery store clerk and a man in the tattered remains of a business suit- grabbed at him at the same time, each one clamping on to one of his ankles.

Sam staggered and fell. But as he landed he twisted as Tom had shown him, rotating his shins so that the angles of his bones exerted leverage on the thumbs of the grabbing hands. The businessman lost his grip, and Sam pivoted hard to shake loose the clerk, emphasizing his need with a crushing downward blow with the flat end of the sword handle. The Infected's skull shattered, and his hand opened with a dying twitch.

Sam scrambled to his feet and ran. The kids were fifty yards ahead of him, but he ran so fast that he's nearly caught up by the time they reached the narrow gap.

"Go! Go!" He yelled, and together they crashed through the circle of broken Infected and into the trampled area. It felt like escaping from the arms of Death itself.

-:-:-:-:-

They crouched like frightened birds in the narrow path, watching the forest and seeing only trees. There was no sign of Lugh, Vix, Alec or the herd. Sam peered at Rin. Her black hair was pasted to the right side of her face by a film of drying blood. Her cheek was bruised, and she didn't meet anyone's eyes. When Killeen reached out to push her hair from her face, she batted his hand away. "Don't."

"I want to see how bad it is."

"It's not bad. Don't worry about it."

The others went instantly silent. Rin looked at them and then glared at Max.

"It's not a bite," she said. "I hit my head on something when I fell."

"Show us," demanded Max, and when Rin hesitated, he snapped, "Now. I need to see how bad it looks."

With a trembling hand, Rin touched her forehead, and then slowly pushed the hair back. It wasn't nothing, and it was still bleeding... but it wasn't a bite, and everyone breathed a vast sigh of relief. Then their faces clouded with concern. There was a jagged cut that ran from Rin's hairline down her cheek almost to her jaw. It wasn't bone deep, but like most head wounds it had bled furiously.

"Oh, man." Johan hastily dug some clean cotton squares from her first aid kit. She tried to apply them, but Rin snatched them from her and pressed them in place.

"I know," she snarled. "It's ugly."

Sam smiled at her. "No," he said, "women with scars make them look badass. And it's not that. I'm just sorry you got hurt."

Her eyes were hard to read in the shadows under the leaves. She turned away without saying anything.

"We have to go find them," whispered Killeen.

A voice said, "Don't have too."

Vix, Lugh, and Alec stood in the waist-high grass at the bare of the path. Alec looked more dirty than the rest; he was covered with mud and streaked with grass stains. His dark hair hung in sweaty rattails, but he didn't even look out of breath.

"Came to split off, saw a few people gathering a herd. It led to you and found you guys just in time." Alec said.

Lugh nodded. "People must of crippled the Infected. Could be White Bears men."

They saw the blood on Rin's face and Vix brushed her hair back to examine her. She nodded and pulled her face away from her touch.

"That looks nasty. It needs to be cleaned off."

"It's not that bad."

"That isn't a request, Rin. Out here you know we don't have antibiotics. Infection is as much out enemy as the Infected. So, you'll clean that off now, and then I'll take a closer look at it. You might even need stitches. End of discussion."

Rin heaved a great sigh, made a big show of pulling out her first aid kit and canteen, and trudged away to sit on a fallen tree and do as she was told.

"I'll help," Sam said and limped after her, but Lugh snaked out a hand and caught his shoulder.

"Whoa, hold on... you're limping and there's blood on your shoe. Where are you hurt?"

Sam swallowed, shooting a wary look at Alec, whose attention had sharpened and was now focused on him. His fingered tightened on the butt-plate of his crossbow.

"Hey- don't even think about it," Sam said, pouting a finger at him. "One of the Infected tried to bite through my sneaker, but he-"

"Take your shoe off." Alec and Lugh said at the same time.

"I-"

"Now," said Lugh. His voice as heavy with a quiet command. Sam looked at Vic, whose eyes flashed with sudden concern.

"Crap," Sam said acidly, and sat down on the grass to pull his shoe off. His sick was soaked with blood. He pulled his sock off. His big toenail was cracked and bleeding, and the toe was swollen, but there was no bite. Lugh peered at the toe.

"It's a pressure injury." He blew out his cheeks and handed the shoe back to Sam. "You just dodged the bullet."

"That's a metaphor, right?"

Lugh's smile was less reassuring than it could have been.

"Right?" Insisted Sam.

"Rinse your sock out," said Lugh as he turned away.

"Hey... right?"

-:-:-:-:-

"Well... go ahead and say it," Rin demanded.

Lugh squatted in front of her, gently touching the edges of the long gash on her face. His lips pursed, and he made a small downbeat grunting noise. "You're going to need stitches."

"I know. Go ahead."

He shook his head. "No... I can stitch a wound well enough, but this needs fine work. Otherwise-"

"I'll look like a hag."

"I wouldn't go that far... but a deft hand with a needle will reduce the scar to a pencil-thin line."

"And you don't know much about that so I'll have a scar."

"Um... scar or no scar, Rin, you'll always going to be beautiful." Alec said.

"No doubt." Agreed Vix.

Rin flushed, but her expression was still hard.

The first aid kit was still in Rin's hand. Lugh hesitated, but then Alec suddenly leaned in to snatch up the kit.

"I'll do it."

"Do you even know how?" Lugh questioned.

Instead of answering, Alec pulled up his shirt to show his toned midriff. There were three healed-over scars, one at least nine inches long. The scars were as thin as threads. Lugh stared and blushed at staring at his toned muscles.

"You stitched those?" Lugh asked, deeply sadden on who did this to him and how hard it is to stitch your wounds by yourself.

"Who else?" He dropped the hem of his shirt.

"That's very good work," said Lugh, avoiding eye contact and coughing his throat. "Better than I can do."

"I know," he said softly. He squinted up at the sun. "Better to do it now."

"We don't have anesthesia, Rin," Lugh murmured. "It's going to hurt. A lot."

"I know." Her eyes were hard. "Better to get it over with."

Without saying another word to Lugh, Rin turned to Alec.

"Do it," she said.

Alec took out what he needed from the kit, and started with delicate work. Lugh watched him before he talks to him.

"Why didn't you go with the Saviors?"

He shrugged. "Just wanted to go."

"Why's that?"

"I don't usually stay with people. Sure, most are my friends and allies. But, I like to live on my own, have my own space."

Lugh shook his head at this man, smiling as he touches his bare shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. "Sure, being alone is comforting. But you rather have someone to be there for you."

Alec looked up, his brown eyes turned to a light hazel, and he twitched a small smile.

Sam and the kids couldn't beat to watch, but Sam couldn't leave Rin along, either. However, she threatened him if he didn't leave, so he slunk away to stand in the shade of a tree with Vix.

"Heck of a start," Vix said softly. "Good it wasn't people."

"I'd say 'could be worse', but I'm kinda thinking that it couldn't. So... basically this blows," observed Sam.

"Yes it does."

They stared out at the endless green of the forest. Minutes passed, and Sam tried to think about anything instead of how it must feel to have a curved needle- like one of Dylan's fishhooks- passed through the skin of your face, followed by the slow pull of surgical thread. The tug at the end to pull the stitch tight. The tremble in the flesh as it waited for the next stitch. And the next.

Sam was pretty sure he was going to go stark raving mad: he kept listening for Rin's scream. And with each second he could not understand why she didn't scream. He would have, and he made no apologies for it. Screaming seemed like a good response to what Rin was going through.

There were no screams.

"She's strong," said Sam after a while.

"Yeah, she is."

"Girls are stronger than boys," Sam said with a smile.

Vix smiled back. "I guess so. But Rin is like that. Staying strong yet stubborn."

They watched the forest.

"I feel bad for her."

"Why?"

"Because you asked me to lead her out, yet I led her to be hurt. Max is their person to follow, not me."

"Don't doubt yourself, Sam," Vix said quietly. "Things happen that aren't in our control. We, I get too worried something will happen, but we train the kids to be very careful. Learn the ways to survive."

"Sure," he murmured. "I always wanted to be back out in the Ruins. Me and Tom were outsiders when we came into Fairview. We saw things that no one dealt with for a long time. We were built to be tough against the Infected, and have to kill people in order to protect ourselves. If our species is going to make it back from the brink and build something better than what we had, than we need to breed and train more people like them. Like you and me. It would be a saner, smarted, and far more stronger but civilized world."

"I want that as well, especially for Fairview, the Eleven Towns."

Everyone walks over to see how Rin was doing. She was pale, almost green, and her face- what Sam could see of it under the bandaged- ran with sweat. Alec sat on a tree stump, carefully cleaning the needle with alcohol.

"World's dumbest question," Johan said to Rin, "but how do you feel?"

"Like I was attacked by Infected." Rin's face was puffy, and she barely moved her lips when she spoke. Her eyes were glassy with pain and the fatigue that comes from ensuring pain. "Thank you," she sad to Alec.

He sighed, then said, "Okay. We rest. There's a barn about a mile here. Take some time before moving up to the way station."

"We can go more." Rin said.

"No, Rin. You're not fine to walk. You're hurt, and even though it's not as serious as it looks, your body has gone through trauma. Be smart about it. Push too hard and you'll collapse, and I fuckin' swear I'll carry your ass back to Fairview and it wouldn't be a good time to go back. Is that clear?"

"Okay."

Alec adjusted his crossbar to sling across his shoulder. "We're going to be going down the hill, and that means every step brings us deeper to Infected-infested lands. Everyone keep your eyes opens and everyone follow orders."

They set out, the RK's, a Savior, and Sam hike a mile before heading inside the abandon barn to take a rest before vending off back the dangerous path towards the battle of the KillGames.


	50. Chapter 46

Benny Chong ran as fast as he could over the rocks. His heart pounded, but it also ached. Sam would hate him for this. So would Vix, Lugh, and the kids. Lalon would be definitely pissed off, especially how he once tried to help him when the herd attacked their hometown, but he wasn't much help, and animals are way different than zoms. Mal, however... well, Benny figured that Mal would despise his weaknesses, and Benny felt that "weak" had quickly

He felt stupid and ashamed. He should never have agreed to come, and though he briefly thought that Sam and Lalon was just as much to blame for even suggesting himself to a war; Benny believed the stuff that had gone wrong was all his fault. He was fairly certain that Lalon was on the verge of turning back, which meant Benny would be responsible for screwing up the battle against these KillGames.

That was the process of logic that had spurred him to run, though now, deep in the woods, he could see that the logic was as thin as tissue paper and filled with holes. He remembered one of his father's countless lessons about logical thinking: "When you add emotion to any equation, you can't trust the results." Shame and guilt were emotions, and the sum at the end of his logical calculations was an untrustworthy as his actions back on the road when the rhino first appeared.

"I'm not cut out for the Ruins," he told himself as he ran. "I'm nobody's idea of Mr. Adventure. No hero." His words see pitched to sound funny, but his heart was breaking.

As he ran he made himself remember everything that Mr. Freeney had taught them in the Scouts and what he had read in books about the forests of Wyoming. All the tricks about tracking and stalking. And about how to foil pursuit. There was a lot of that in books. The Leatherstocking Tales and old Louis L'Amour novels from long before the Black Night.

Benny knew about doubling back and leaving false trails. He knew how to circle around and cut his own trail. He knew how to keep from scuffing the rocks. Several times he jumped down from the rocks and ran into the tall grass, then carefully walked backward in his own footprints so that anyone following would think he ran into the field. When he reached the forest; he found a broken branch that still had some leaves on it, and as he ran he whisked the ground behind him to wipe out his trail.

Maybe Lalon could find him. He's an excellent tracker. But it makes him clever, especially if they are people from the KillGames or White Bear after him. It would be better to go northwest to avoid the manic of the fight.

As it grew darker he slowed to a walk. The canopy if leaves was so dense he could catch only glimpses of the sky. Sunset couldn't be more than an hour and a half away. It was time to find shelter.

He saw an upslope and took that, reasoning that high ground would give him a better view to help him pick a likely tree for the night, and allow him to see if he was indeed alone in this section of the forest. Benny was sure he could outrun a zom, but if one came after him, the creature would simply allow him to whatever tree he chose and stand there until the world ended. It could out wait him.

"No thanks," he told himself, and almost jumped at the sound of his own voice. He drew his bokken. He was not as strong a swordsman as Sam, or as fast, but Benny knew that he was far helpless, and holding the weapon recharged his confidence.

At the top of the hill he turned in a full circle. Shadows clustered around the base of each tree, and every time the wind blew Benny imagined he could see a ghastly shape lumbering his way. But he saw no zoms.

He spotted a stately cottonwood tree with a couple of branches low enough to grab and many more high up among the leaves. He ran down the hill and began climbing the slope atop if which was the cottonwood. He looked left and right, checking his surroundings, filling his kinds with data, being smart and careful.

But he walked right past the two figures standing in the sense shadows beneath a massive old spruce. They, however, saw him.

The RK's and Sam were miles away. Much too far away to hear Benny Chong's screams.


	51. Chapter 47

When Benny woke up the first time, he thought he was in hell.

When he woke up the second time, he knew he was.

The first thing was he aware of was pain. The bones of his face ached so deeply that his gums hurt. When he tried to move his head, the strained muscles in his neck flared with darts of searing pain that lanced through him. He tried to touch his face, to see how bad he was hurt, but his hands would not move. Which was when he felt the pain in his wrists and ankles.

"W-what?" He asked. Except that he could not speak. A thick and noxious rag was tied around his head, knot of it shoved between his teeth. All he could do was groan. Like a Infected.

He blinked his eyes, trying to clear them. Vision returned very slowly. At first all he saw was dirt and some clumps of crooked grass. At least that helped him orient himself. He was on his side, on the ground, and Lalon was beside him on the ground.

He and Lalon are bound and gagged. Panic was trembling thing that fluttered inside the walls of his chest. He wanted to scream out, to attract attention to Lalon, to wake him up and able to say something. He wanted to apologize for running away.

Pain rolled up and down him like a ride, never pausing, missing nothing. He could not believe that he was capable of hurting in so many places at once.

"Benny?" A weak moan spoke out Lalon's mouth, muffled from the gag.

"Lalon? I'm so sorry." He said through the gag, making his voice a whisper.

"It's okay."

"Well, well," said a voice. "Look who's awake." A booted foot stepped down inches from Lalon's nose. "Long time, no see, half breed."

Calvin stood over Lalon, grinning like a mad man. Lalon haven't seen him for a long time; the Calvary Boys changed their looks, let their shaved head grow to stubbled hair, but their attitudes and arrogance never changed. Lalon stared at him with fury in his eyes. "Aww, c'mon. That's no way to greet an old friend."

Lalon so wanted to jump out of these bounds and beat the grinning teen. Suddenly Calvin kicks his nose, Benny screamed through his gag, pleading for Calvin to stop this.

Before Calvin was about to take another taste at Lalon, someone stops him. "Now, now. That's not how to play nice."

He scoffs, shrugging his shoulders. "Wanted to see if he's still strong."

"But I rather not have him beaten."

"I understand, boss." He bends down and sinisterly whispers right in his ear, and he was smiling very devilishly. "You wish you begged me to kill you." He disappears into the forest.

"You was out so long I thought I was going to have to leave you." The man had a deep voice that was strangely familiar to Lalon and at the same time alien.

Lalon tried to crane his neck to look up, but he couldn't move his head far a bough. It felt as if the gag was tied in some way to whatever had been used to bind his ankles and wrists.

He growled at the man. Benny pleaded. "Please..." It was just noise, but the man chuckled as if he understood.

"You trying to say something, little man?"

There was a flash of silver and then the pressure of cold steel against his cheek... and then the ends of the gag dropped away, the tough cloth parting like gossamer as the wicked blade slashed through them.

Free from the pressure, Benny coughed and spat to force the dirty rag of his mouth. The corners of his mouth felt stretched, his cheeks were raw and abraded. His arms and legs were still firmly tied and he wriggled around, trying to work free of them, but the knots were too tight.

"Don't worry, little man, I'll cut you loose. In my own time, of course."

"Leave him alone." Lalon spat through the gag, teeth showing out the dirty cloth.

"Such a strong fellow. Calvin and his boys know about you, and there's pretty interesting things. I have a bet you'll be worth a show."

Benny started to look up, but the man stepped so close that the sour stink of his boot leather filled Benny's eyes and nose.

He tried to speak, but his throat was dry as paste. "W-why?" He croaked. "Who are you?"

The man chuckled again. It was a friendly sound, totally at odds with what was happening. And it was maddeningly familiar in Lalon's ears. It almost sounded like...

But... no... that was impossible.

The man lifted the booted foot and brought it down on the side of Benny's face. Not a kick... no, the man placed the sole on Benny's cheek and slowly applied weight and pressure.

"Shhhh, now. I cut the gag so you could breathe. Wasn't no invitation to ask a bunch of questions you already know the answer to."

Benny frowned and tried to tell him that he was wrong, that Benny didn't know the answers to anything, that this was all some kind of mistake. The force behind the boot increased bit by bit. At first it was only pressure, but soon there was enough weight to make Benny's jaw creak. Then more, and more, and Benny started to cry out. More and more struggled to get out the bounds and cried in anger to stop the man. More and more until he though he would pass out.

"I can keep this up all night," said the man as casually as if he was discussing the weather. "I'll stop when I don't hear any more noise coming out of your mouth. Chew on this thought for a minute, little man. A gag ain't the only way to keep you from talking. I can cut your tongue out too, and nail it to a tree. Don't think for a moment that I'm joking, 'cause I done it before, and to tougher specimens than you."

Benny wanted to scream. Instead he clamped his mouth shut tighter than the gag had been.

The pressure continued. Benny squeezed his eyes shut and tried to find a place inside his head where he could go and hide. He wanted to be home, up in his room, surrounded by the stacks of his beloved books. Back there, if a monster became too terrifying Benny could always close the book. Not here. Not in the dark with the pain and the ropes and the gag.

The pressure stopped increasing as the man listened for sounds from Benny.

"That's the ticket," he said, and removed his foot... but not before giving it a last little extra pressure. Somehow that made Benny feel more frightened, that last little bit of pressure. It was unnecessary. The man had already defeated Benny, already proved his power and dominance. That last twist spoke of a deeper, less evolved kind of evil. A sneaky pettiness. Sly and dirty. It made Benny very, very afraid.

For several long minutes there was nothing. No new pain, no sign of the man, no sound of him moving around, and looking at Lalon's eyes staring up at the man, unmoving. Was he just standing there and watching? Benny knew that he was. And that made him even more afraid.

Then the man spoke. "I'll bet your mommy and daddy told you that there are bad people out here in the badlands. People who will do bad things to you. Bad things to stupid little boys running around in the Ruins. Bad men doing bad, bad things."

There was a rush sound and suddenly the man was on his hands and knees between the teens, bending low so that his face was inches from Benny's. It was a face out of a nightmare. The skin was a horror show. Every inch of that face was twisted and melted. One eye was completely gone, just a black pit in the lumpy pink and red moonscape. Hair as white as snow framed the man's terrible face. He whispered four words.

"I'm the bad man." Then he laughed and stood up. "You know what we're going to do now?"

Benny did not dare answer, nor did Lalon. He closed his eyes, not wanting this to be real. Begging the universe to make this a dream.

"I'm going to cut your feet loose so you can walk, and by God you will walk. We got miles and miles to walk, half-way into the night. You're going to walk every inch of it, and you both are not saying anything. Not a word, and by God not a whimper. If you so much as cut a fart I'm going to cut pieces offa you. Nod if you believe me."

Benny nodded. Emphatically.

Lalon laid there for several seconds, and nodded slowly. Willingly.

"Then, oh say round about midnight- the witching hour, as they useta call it back before the Infected- we're going to get somewhere. You know where that is, little man?"

Benny shook his head. Just a tentative little shake. The man knelt again, and his breath was hit and whiskey soaked against Benny's ear,

"I'm taking your skinny ass and your boyfriend to KillGames, little man. Now... ain't that a world of fun?"

Benny did not dare scream. But oh, how he needed to.


	52. Chapter 48

Tom escaped the herd, and was now alone. He prayed that Negan and Mal escape before through the tough tree lines, he sees a ball of fire. The fire burned through the walking dead and Brother David's way station. He eventually looked out to see Mal and Negan up in the hill and ran more, letting the forest swallow them whole.

Now, he has to catch them up or go straight towards Wawona hotel. Well, he rather be with Mal more. He still disagreeing Negan's choice of loving her. It's not like Negan is somewhat doing some illegal things- since the Black Night there are no rules- but he's not forcing her. Tom's whole body, mind, and himself couldn't process the thought of Mal liking this man. Was it from the rape she gone through that twisted her mind to like a man way older than her age?

 _No, why would you think that_? His inner mind slapped the stupid thought of Tom. He takes deep breathes before walks it off. He has to think more on the KillGames than his overprotectiveness for Mal.

Tom was at home in the Ruins. He loved the woods, even in the night turning the green world into an almost impenetrable black gloom. Ever since that terrible night twenty-eight years ago, Tom had spent nearly a third of his life in these woods. Unlike Fairview, with its stifled boundaries and pervasive fear, the Ruins was a simpler place. You knew where you stood.

Tom reckoned that it was no different than the way the world had been before humans settled the first cities. Back then there had been predators of all kinds, and life was hard-scrabble at best. Every day was a fight for survival, but it was that struggle that had inspired humans to become problem solvers. The inventiveness of the human race was one of the most crucial tools of survival, and it was the cornerstone of all civilization. Without it, man would never have turned fire into a tool, or carved a wheel from a piece of wood.

Tom knew that there were Infected and Runners out here, but didn't fear them. He respected and accepted them as a physical threat the way he respect as accepted the beasts and cougars and wolves that roamed these hills. But you have to fight for the dead and even the living to protect yourselves. It was the way of things. Survival of the fittest, and no one was "the fittest" all the times.

He ran for a couple a yards to a mile away that he couldn't see the fire, couldn't see a black clouded shaded in the night. He ran lightly, ducking under branches, leaping gullies, running no faster than his ability to perceive what the forest had to tell him.

He continued to ran swiftly. The first was growing quiet, and he moved only as fast as he could go silently. It was a tracker's trick: Never make more noise than what you're tracking. He uses it so no one can track him and whatever he's tracking up ahead.

 _Crack_.

There was a sound, soft and close, and within three steps Tom slipped into the shadows between two ancient elms. He listened. Sound was deceptive. Without a second noise it was often difficult to reliably determine from which direction the sound had come. Ahead and to the left? Off the trail?

A rustle. Definitely off to the left. Tom peered through the gloom. The second sound had been like a foot moving through stiff brush. A long paused and then another crunch.

Tom saw a piece of shadow detach itself and move from left to right through an open patch. It was quick, furtive movement. Something that walked on two legs. Not a Runner, though, he was sure about that. He was sure it wasn't Negan and Mal.

Preacher Jack? If so, Tom was determined to have a different kind of chat with him than they'd had back on the road.

The figure was coming his way, but from the body language it was clear the person had not seen him. The head was turned more toward the north, looking farther along the game trail.

Judging where Tom should have been if he'd kept moving.

Tom nodded approval. A pretty good tracker, he guessed.

"Tom!" called a voice. A very familiar voice. "Tom. I know you're up there behind one of those trees. Don't make me have to walk all the way up the slope."

Tom stepped out from behind the tree with his pistol in his hand. The shadowy figure emerged into a slightly brighter spot of light. From the soles of her boots to the top of her orange Mohawk, the woman was tall and solidly built, with knife handles and pistol butts hurtling out in all directions like an old-time pirate. In her right fist she carried a huge Bowie knife with a wicked eighteen-inch blade.

Something black gleamed on the blade, and though it looked like oil in the bad light, Tom knew that it was blood. The woman's face and clothes seemed to be smeared with it. She tottered into view, and Tom saw that her left arm hung limp and dead at her side.

Tom stepped out from behind the tree. "Sally?"

Sally Two-Knives grinned at him with bloody teeth. "You alone, Tom?"

"Yes."

"Good," she said, and pitched forward onto her face.


	53. Chapter 49

The world seemed to be made of flame and white faces and death. Mal and Negan ran into the night, pursued by inferno heat. They had no clear direction, but there were too many Infecteds to allow them a straight line of flight.

"How many are there?" Mal gasped. However, it was the last thing she said aloud for a long time, because those four words nearly got her killed. The fire down on the field drew the attention of most of the herd, but her voice came out unnaturally loud. All the pale death-mask faces around them turned suddenly toward them.

Mal and Negan stopped, shifting to stand back-to-back, bat and machete ready.

Negan took a slow sideways step, and Mal shifted with him. The Infecteds came closer, but their dark eyes shifted back and forth between them and the blaze. Without more sound to attract them, they were losing interest.

But not quickly enough. Soon some of them would be within grabbing distance. Mal could already sneak their dead, dusty, decayed stench...

And that fast she had it. She shifted her machete to a one-handed grip and slid her hand slowly into her pocket. Not for the matches, though. Instead she pulled out one of her remaining bottles of cadaverine. It was a risk. If they survived this terrible moment, then they would need the chemical to get them out.

Negan took another step, going slowly so that Mal could keep pace. She didn't dare take the time to look to see if he was merely moving or if he saw a way out. Mal put the cap between her teeth to hold it steady while she unscrewed the bottle. Instantly the sickly sweet stink of rotting meat filled the air. It wasn't until that moment that she realized how much the smoke had blocked the cadaverine smell.

A distant part of her wondered if the Infected would attack one another in the smoke. If they couldn't smell the odor of death, would they attack anything? There was no way to know, and she wasn't about to go back.

"Mal," murmured Negan in a voice so soft that it was a shadow of a sound that Negan never says in that tone.

She didn't answer. Instead she sprinkled some of the cadaverine on her chest and hair. The first of the Infecteds were within arm's length now, hands lifting, reaching. And pausing.

Mal jerked the open bottle over her shoulder, splashing Negan's shirt and hair.

"Wait," she whispered. "Give it a sec."

"Mal. Fuck, look." He insisted.

She turned the wrong way first, and then faced him and followed the line he indicated with his outstretched bat.

They were on a slope that led up to a shadowy mass of trees that she could barely see by starlight. There were far fewer Infecteds up there, the lines of them visibly thinning. However, that was not what Negan was pointing to: a figure stood at the top of the path. Mal had to blink the stinging smoke out of her eyes to make it out. At first it looked like a tall shrubbery, but then it moved to stand more fully in the starlight, and Mal froze in place, tightening her grip.

From the height, she judged the figure to be a man, but otherwise it was impossible to tell. It seemed like he was wearing a small tree, but Mal realized that the man wore a long coat onto which leaves and pinecones had been sewn. His face was entirely covered by a round mask made up of oak leaves. Negan knew who it was, even in the dark. He knew him, and now Mal remembered from Negan's description and the Famous Infected Cards.

It was the Greenman. Infected's walked past him, staggering out of the forest; a few even bumped into him as they stumbled down the grassy path. The Greenman did not move except to raise a slender finger to the "lips" of his mask.

Mal and Negan stop as still as statues. Below them the wind was blowing the fire toward the fall of rocks. It was not spreading into the hills, and Mal was grateful for small mercies. She didn't want to cause even more problems for anyone from the Saviors, the RK's or Tom, and she certainly didn't want to start a forest fire.

It took a long time for the Infecteds to pass. Negan stood beside her, reaching his fingers and wrap his large hand into her small hand. Then it was over. The last of the Infecteds- a sad-faced man wearing the stained tags of a house painter's coveralls- tottered past. He had a butcher knife buried in his chest, but the blade was pitted with rust. The creature turned an empty face toward Mal for a long moment, and despite all the terror that still crouched in her chest, Mal felt sorry for him. Then the Infected vanished into the smoke and gloom down on the field.

Mal didn't let go of Negan's hands, and she looked up to see that the Greenman was beckoning them with slow movements of his hand. Then he turned and walked toward the woods without waiting to see if Mal and Negan were following.

"Is that the Greenman?" She asked, not knowing if she can't trust him.

Negan shook his head. "It's him, alrighty."

"Why's he dressed like that?"

"To blend into the forest so no fuckers can see him." He put the bat against on his shoulder. "Come on."

"I hope Tom made it out."

"He's pretty smart," he said carefully. "For the guy who has a golden butthole, he can take care of himself."

They hurried up the hill after the Greenman. However when they got to the top of the hill and entered the forest path, the strange figure was gone.


	54. Chapter 50

Tom was fast, but Sally Two-Knives was down before he got to her. He knelt beside her and checked her pulse, found a reassuring thump-thump-thump. Then he examined neck and spine before he gently eased her into her back and brushed dirt and leaves from her face.

"Oh boy, Sally," he said, "you're a bit of a mess here." Her eyelids slowly fluttered open. Even in the bad light Tom could see that her face was taut with great pain. "Where are you hurt?" he asked.

"Everywhere."

"Can you pin it down for me or do I have to go looking?"

Sally snorted. "Since when did you become a prude?" Then she winced and touched her abdomen. "Stomach and arm."

Tom opened the bottom buttons of her shirt, saw what was clearly a knife wound. She wasn't coughing blood, so he didn't think she had any sense internal injuries. Or he hoped she didn't. He removed a small bottle of antiseptic and some cotton pads from a vest pocket and gently cleaned the wound and applied a clean bandage. He used his knife and cut open her sleeve to real a ragged black hole. Tom gently raised her arm and leaned to take a look at the back of it, saw a second, slightly smaller hole.

"A through-and-through," he concluded. "Bullet hit you in the back of the arm and punched out through the biceps. What they'd shoot you with?"

"Don't know," she said through gritted teeth. "Something small. Twenty-two or twenty-five caliber, thought it felt like a darn big going in and coming out."

"Missed the arteries. Didn't break the bone," Tom said. "You always were a lucky one, Sally."

"Lucky my ass. I got shot and stabbed. If that's your idea of good luck, then give me the other kind."

"Don't even joke," he chided as he cleaned the entry and exit wounds, placed sterile pads over them, and began wrapping a white bandage around her arm. "I've seen my share of bad luck already today."

Tom tied the ends of the bandage with neat precision, but inside he was beginning to feel a slight edge of panic. It was now too dark to track Negan and Mal. Tom helped Sally sit up and let her drink from his canteen.

"Don't suppose you saw my horse anywhere, did you?" She asked. "I left her tied to a tree, but she must have spooked."

"No," said Tom. "Look, Sally, what happened and who did this?"

"It's complicated," she said. "I ran into a couple of the White Bear crew. You know White Bear?"

He nodded. "Heard of him but never met him. Big guy from Nevada. Reasons they call him White Bear because he tells everyone that he's reincarnated of some great Indian medicine men, thought he doesn't have a drop of Native American blood in him. Negan and the Saviors are out here to find him."

She hissed in pain as Tom began stitching her stomach wound. He wished he was better at it.

"OW- damn, son! You using a tree spike to sew that up?" She snarled.

"Don't be a sissy."

She cursed him and his entire lineage going back to the Stone Age. Tom endured it as he worked. Curses were better than screams.

She took a breath. "Heard about Negan and the Saviors helping the Bounty Hunters. Since Charlie's gang got chomped by the Saviors and those Infected's last year, there's been a lot of talk about who was going to over his territory. Charlie always had prime real estate. Fairview, Eleven Towns, the Tradepost, couple of other towns, and the trade route all through these forests and mountains. White Bear wants it all. Brought a bunch of his guys with him. Most of them are jokers who dont know which end of the rifle goes bang! But he has a lot of them."

"How many?"

"The two I saw tonight, and maybe twenty more. Maybe twice that number if the rumors are true... and he'll probably try to scoop up any of Charlie's guys who are still sucking air. They are called the Calvary Boys."

Tom tied off the last stitch and began applying a fresh dressing. "Why'd they attack you?"

"They didn't. I, um, kind of attacked them. I mean, it's the mission to kill them all." She touched Tom's arm. "Tom... I think they have Sam."

"What?"

"I saw them slapping the crap out of a kid, and he wasn't alone. He was with a Native boy. Sam, what, fifteen, sixteen?"

"Seventeen. The other boy is named Lalon. What was this kid wearing?"

She thought about it. "Jeans, dark shirt with red stripes and a best with a lot of pockets."

Tom exhaled a burning breath. "That's not Sam. That's his friend, Benny Chong."

"That who you're looking for? The kid?"

"No, I'm looking for... Mal."

She squinted at him. "Mal? As in the sad story of the girl you've taken care of as Sam, but separated and thought was dead? Damn."

"She lives as a Savior. Brother David's place is overrun from a herd and we split up. She's with Negan, so they'll be heading straight to Wawona, and-" he huffs out a breath, a twitch snaked over his neck, causing his spine to turn cold. "She had gone through a lot, but she has someone. Someone she likes."

"And who's the lucky guy?"

"...Negan..." He mutters under his gritted teeth.

She barks a laugh. " _Negan_? The Negan? Well, he's a handsome devil and all the women's panties are out the window, but how old is she? And I heard he has wives."

"Yeah, he has wives for fun and weird rules. He's twice too old for her, but he says he'll wait until legal age. Fortunately, he confessed his feelings and he loves her."

Sally scoffs a laugh, chuckling as she shakes her head at Tom. "You're jealous," she said. "I can hear it in your voice and you have your famous death glare, or what Negan says ' _you have a stick up your asshole to give me that look'_."

"Jealous?" He said in such confusion.

"Jealous of Mal growing up. You did your part as being a guardian to her, a father. Even you didn't predict the in dividend that led the both of you separate from each other. It's hard, harder for her. But look at her now. She's grown up to fight this world she's born in, found people to be friends, a family, and now she has someone else to look after her. That's why your jealous of Negan and feeling guilty upon yourself. She's not the little girl you knew. She is beyond what you expect and you don't have to worry as much anymore. Don't let that pity you, Tom. Be grateful."

He stood there and thought of her wisdom. She spoke so sincerely and she was right. He wished he could've been with Mal from the years that passed after Lucius War, how much things would of changed, and that Mal wouldn't have been a victim of despair and pain. But things happened that Tom can't even control it, however, situations like this can lead to hope. He has done his job, so now Mal is herself in choice and Negan will be the one to take care of her.

"You always been this wise?" He smiled, and she snorted.

"Never a wise gal, but speaking to you, you need it," she paused. "A lot of people look up to you."

"They shouldn't-"

"You matter to people, Tom. Negan, you, other Bounty Hunters, people look at us as hero's. Sure, a lot us did some pretty wild things to survive. But the thing is that since then you've been the kind of guy people can look at and say, ' _Oh yeah, that's how people are supposed to act_.' There aren't a lot of examples around since the zoms, man, but you..." She smiled and shook her head.

Tom cleared his throat. "Listen, Sally. I'm thinking that this is pain and shock talking here, so lets get to the point. Where did they take Benny and Lalon and how's you get hurt?"

"It was about two hours ago. I was heading to Brother David's to talk to Negan when I heard someone yelling. I snuck up and saw two kids, one was trying to fight off a couple of goons. Kid was doing okay at first. Had a wooden version of a sword. The goons were trying to take the sword away from him barehanded, making a game of it. Pretending they were zoms and that sort of stuff. You've seen it before."

"Yes," he said coldly, "I've seen it. What happened?"

"Kid managed to land a good one on one of the guys. Hit him on the shoulder, and I could hear the thwack all the way up the hill. Then the guys stopped playing and laid into the kid with a will. Whipped the sword out of his hands and beat the living crap out of him."

"Damn." Tom thought about the ascetic and intellectual Benny fighting for his life. How brave he must have been, and how terrified.

"By that time I'd had enough, and I'd pretty much figured that the kid must have been your kid, Sam. So I came down the hill with a war whoop and sliced myself a piece if those two butt-wipes. Wasn't all girly about it either. Would have just messed them up some and let the pair of them limp out of here, but they tried to get all fancy on me. It didn't end well for'em, and no less to the world."

"Wait... you said you took them out?"

"Two freaks like them against me? I coulda done that back in my Roller Derby days, and that was before I learned how to ugly-fight."

"No, I mean, if you nailed them, then who-?"

"Must have been a third guy. Never saw him coming. I was about to catch up the kid when suddenly something hit my arm from behind and knocked me into a tree. Tried to shake it off, but someone came at me from my blind side, spun me and stabbed me. All I saw was a big man with white hair, and then I blacked out."

"White? Sally- could it have been Preacher Jack?"

"The loony-tune from Wawona?" She thought about it. "No, this guy was way bigger. Anyway... I passed out, and when I woke up, the kids were done and so was the big guy."

"What about the other two?"

"Still there. Whoever shot me left 'em to the crowd."

Tom sat back and thought about it. "Could the big man have been White Bear?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. This guy was as big as Charlie Pink-Eye as his face was all messed up. Nasty-lookin'."

"Could it have been Charlie?"

Sally narrowed her eyes. "Charlie's dead. Negan killed him. But, did he actually kill him?"

"Not exactly," Tom said. He told her about what had happened after Negan took two swings and Charlie plumbed down.

"Well, hell... that's not the kind of news a gal wants to hear when she's already feeling poorly. Man, Negan must be sick and tired of this. You think Charlie's alive?"

"I don't know. Did the guy who attacked you do it to avenge the men you killed, or was he after those boys?"

"I... don't know. But wouldn't Charlie know these kid's are yours."

Tom nodded. "He knows Lalon and the RK's."

Sally took another swig from the canteen and chewed her lip for a moment. "Before I attacked them, I heard some of what the two punks said to the kid. I heard where they said they were taking them."

Tom knew what she was going to say and he closed his eyes as if he, rather than she, was in physical pain. "Say it."

"KillGames," said Sally Two-Knives. "They were going to try and sell them to the people running that place. Put them in the Infected pits."

"But you don't know if the man who shot you is taking them there?"

"No idea."

"Terrific," Tom said sourly. "They've moved KillGanes twice since the Saviors took Charlie's crew. I've been trying to find it... and I don't have a damn clue where it is. It could be all the way over in Utah for all I know."

"I don't think so, Tom," she said with a cold smile. "When those boys were taunting the kid, one of them told him that he's be fighting in the pits by dawn's early light. His words."

Tom looked out at the darkness. "Damn," he said softly.

-:-:-:-:-

"Something's coming!" Sally whispered.

Tom got quickly to his feet, his fingers curled around the handle of his pistol. They were huddled together under the eaves of an olive tree that grew amid cluster of tall boulders. As he crept to the edge of the largest boulder, Ton heard the soft hiss of Sally drawing one of her knives. He turned that out and focused on the darkened woods beyond. Before setting up their temporary camp, Tom had gathered arm loads of frail twigs and scattered them along any likely path of approach. The snap of a twig had brought them both to full alertness.

There was a second snap. And a third. Whoever was out there didn't care about making sound. In this world that meant one of two things. Either the person was traveling with a party that was so heavily armed that he had no fear of attracting the attention of the living dead; or they were the living dead. Tom edged farther out and let himself go still, becoming part of the rock, the shadows, and the forest. He had reluctantly accepted some of Sally's cadaverine only because it would have been virtually impossible to get her up into a tree for the night. With one injured arm and a bad stab wound, Sally would be lucky if she could walk. Forget climbing.

A moment later a figure stepped out from behind a bushy rhododendron. It was a girl, a teenager, possibly thirteen when she died. Now immortal in the cruelest sense of the word. Her eyes roved across the gap between the boulders and the olive tree but did not linger on Tom. The creature's mouth hung slack, the lips were rubbery. The girl wore a grimy and faded bra and what looked like leggings with a pattern of horses, but has been ripped. The teenager's feet were bare, and the bloodless skin was so badly torn that Tom could see tendons and bones. What's worse is the structure of her body; skinny muscles tissue, seeing her small bones, and the dried blood on her thighs before she was bitten. He wanted to close his eyes or look away and have the thoughts of Mal being the girl alone in fear and despair from Charlie and if this girl had this happened to her and made the choice of death. He can't think about that and wants to look away, but the girl was still a Infected and she was still a threat.

Tom remained still as the dead teenager staggered along the trail and vanished into the gloom. He was about to go back inside the circle of rocks when he paused and straightened. Was the southeastern sky... red? The canopy of the leaves was too thick to allow more than a glimpse of the sky, but it seemed to Tom that there was a reddish glow. Was it a trick of the light? He couldn't tell.

Tom relaxed and moved back into the protection of the rocks.

"Zom?" Asked Sally.

"Infected," agreed Tom.

"You quiet her?"

"No."

She chuckled. "Mr. Softy."

He shrugged. Everyone knew Tom was aware that he wouldn't kill a Infected unless it was part of a closure job or self-defense. This Infected had not been aware of him or Sally and was therefore no immediate threat.

Tom settled down and passed her his canteen. She drank and handed it back.

"Been a lot more zoms in these woods lately," she said. "Last week, ten days. Getting so you can't take two steps without tripping over one."

"Really?" Tom said, surprised. "This was always a quiet section. It's why I bring the kids up here. What's drawing the Infected here?"

"Not sure, but there's lots of stuff coming out of the east lately. Weird stuff. I saw a small herd of zebras running along the same game trail as some elk. Bunch of monkeys, too. Haven't seen a monkey since I took my kids to San Diego Quarantine Zone a million years ago, but I've seen a slew of them lately."

"I saw a hippo," Tom smirked, and told her about the encounter that almost got him killed.

"Wow. A lot of critters are coming out of the denser parts of Yosemite to Wyoming, but even more are coming from farther east and north. Don't know why. Something out there is scaring the wild animals enough to drive then here, and maybe the zoms are following the animals."

He chewed his lip for a moment. "I don't have an ideas what made them to it or what's happening. Part of me hopes that maybe whatever this is... this plague... is finally coming to an end."

"Yeah, and I keep hoping I'll wake up and the Black Night never happened."

He nodded. "The other part of me is scared by it, Sal."

"You? Scared? Why?"

"Because right now I know how things are. Everyone knows how the Ruins work. A Infected is a Infected, and I know the rules of that. But if the game has changed, then nothing I know is certain." He paused. "I've been teaching Mal and Sam the way things work... but what if everything I taught them is wrong? What if Sam-"

"Stop," she said, touching her fingers to his lips. "You're talking like a parent now, and that's my territory. Tom... the world is always changing. Always. We can't give the next generation a set of guarantees. Best we can do is help them be smart enough and tough enough to deal with whatever comes. You know as well as I do that we're not going to be there forever for them."

"I know, but things are changing just when we're leaving home." Tom gave a moody grunt and sipped from his canteen. "I'm worried about Benny, too. At least Sam's been out here before. Benny hasn't. I have to find him."

"You will, but he has that other boy with him. He's one of Mal's group," she assured him, then added, "I wish I could go with you. But as least I can get to Wawona to discuss with Negan and tell them how things are. If I see Dreaded Skillz and DJ Derby, I'll draw them a map so they can find you. Get some backup. They'd like to see KillGames burn down as much as I would."

Tom nodded his head. "I do so too, Sal. Fairview wasn't as much help to the Saviors, two times. He burned it down and Charlie rebuilt. Now someone else is running it. Maybe White Bear... maybe Charlie, if he's alive. If he burns it down again, they'll simply keep rebuilding it. There are too many corrupt people out here and in the towns to expect a moneymaker like that to stay closed. I have to find Benny and Lalon and then go to Wawona to fight along with the Saviors and once for all end this."

Sally gave Tom a wicked grin. "And hope God helps you, the Saviors, and everyone along the way."

Tom smiles.


	55. Chapter 51

Negan and Mal were exhausted, hungry, and heartsick. The forest was too vast and too dark for them to mount a search for the Greenman.

Behind them, far below on the field, the fire was burning itself out. They were too far away to see much, though. Now that the fire was fading, the sky was less intensely red. Mal wondered if Tom had seen the blaze. If so, what would he do? Was he already on his way back to the way station, or was he on the far side of the mountain with the massive forest and tall hills acting as a screen? The wind was blowing to the south, so Tom could not have smelled the smoke. He might not even know.

"Tomorrow," said Negan, loosening the belt of the carpet coat to allow cool air to soothe him, "we're going to have to try and go back. Tom will come to the way station to look for us, alive or dead."

Mal didn't answer, just nodding her head. She looks around the trees. "There's a good tree to sleep in." Mal pointed to a crooked cottonwood. It had very strong lower branches and lots if other stout limbs reaching out in all directions. Mal scrambled up first to test it. She learned herself to climb tree and how to pick the right tree. The rule of thumb was that if a branch was as thick as your bicep then it should be able to take your weight. Mal had cautioned against some trees, such as sycamore, because they had a nasty tendency to split; and dead trees were to be avoided at all costs.

Mal shimmied up the trunk, letting her legs do the work and saving her arm muscles until she reached the lowest limb. After she tested the limbs and found a couple of good resting spots, she paused to catch her breath and control the impulse to scream. The burn on her shoulder hurt so bad it felt like she was still on fire. But every time she felt that she could not keep the screams inside, she decided to hold the pain. She dealt with so much more than this.

"Are you even human, Mal?" Negan called from beneath, watching Mal climb the tree with speed and strength. "You're like a spider-monkey."

"Have been climbing trees since I was small."

He chuckled at the thought of her as a child. She must of been a rascal for Tom. Once she had found a measure of self-control, she scrambled down and helped Negan. He was a good climber, but it took a lot for him to climb up, and he totally spent when he finally reached the spot Mal had picked- a nook formed by four limbs growing outward from almost the same point.

Mal crawled down to the lower branch for a last comprehensive observation of the surrounding forest. There were no Infecteds, which was a huge relief; but also no sigh of Tom or the Greenman.

She removed her carpet coat and threaded her machete through one of the sleeves and Negan's through the other. The effect was to create a kind of sling that, while probably not strong enough to serve as a hammock, would at least give them some protection if they started to fall. She and Negan positioned it under them, and they settled back against the trunk of the tree. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was save and Negan wrapping an arm around Mal made her safe, and that was all that she needed to get through the night.

They drank greedily from their canteens. "How's your arm?" His finger grazed lightly on her shoulder.

"Stings. It's okay." Negan didn't believe and with his concern, he pulled the flannel off to see the bare shoulder. The burned mark wasn't too bad, it's only red, however, when he touched her skin, he could feel some heat.

He took a bottle of antiseptics from the way station and a cloth and dabbed at her shoulder as gently as she could. Mal hissed at the first touch, but gradually endured it. Then he soaked a piece of clean bandage in water and placed it on her shoulder.

"It's not too bad." Mal leaned her head on Negan's shoulder and said, "Thank you."

"I know," Negan murmured. Mal found his hand in the dark and laced her fingers through his. "You glad you didn't leave."

She laughed. "I guess. But it doesn't change anything."

"I know. I promised you."

They sat and listened to the woods. There was a constant and comforting trill of crickets.

"The kids are out there with the RK's," Mal said. "They're somewhere safe."

"Abso-fuckin-lutely," said Negan. "All of you trained those kids to be brave and smart. I'm sure they can survive this, maybe even become like you guys."

"Yeah. Tom, too. He'll be in a tree somewhere up the mountains, waiting for dawn."

"Yup." The forest pulsed with the crickets and the soft swish of branches in the breeze.

Mal kept thinking, and immediately drew herself into Negan's embrace, burying her face into the curve of Negan's neck and breathing deeply. He can feel how tense and anxious she is.

"Shh, baby It's alright. I fucking promise you, we're gonna be alright. Charlie may not be alive," he soothed, his arms tight around Mal. He hated how shaky Mal's short breaths were, tight and panicked. Negan layered gentle kisses onto her cheeks and jawline, wishing there was some way to ease the unrest that he saw in Mal's eyes. He stroked her face, thumbing over the bruises there. "And if he is, we'll end him. I won't let a single one of them or him touch you, baby. I fucking promise you that. We're gonna be okay."

Mal leaned her forehead against Negan's, the gesture sweet and trusting and intimate, and Negan felt his heart give an aching squeeze in his chest. "I know," Mal said. "I know we'll be okay. We've fought people before. I know we will. I just...fuck. I'm scared. I hate feeling like this."

Negan drew Mal down to lay beside him on his chest, their lips so close that Negan could feel the warm puff of Mal's breath against him. "What can I do, Mal?"

"Just need to take my mind off of things," Mal murmured, inching closer so that their bodies were flush against each other. Negan knew that wasn't what she was offering, but the thought skittered across his mind anyway: Mal, soft and flushed and laying on him.

He dwelled on it, he leaned in, his lips brushing Mal's. "I can do that."

There was something so beautiful about the way Mal kissed, he thought as their mouths moved together. There was a quiet strength to it, much like Mal herself, that Negan found nearly addicting. And fuck, he thought, if he was going to be addicted to something, make it this girl. He would gladly overdose on him, on the feeling of Mal's warm, wet mouth covering his own. It was all too easy to lose himself in, and Negan had to consciously draw himself back occasionally, not letting his hands wander too far. Mal loved how his touch, his gentle feature covering the strong, brute, and aggressive man he is be so enduring of being caring, it's addictive to Mal.

Eventually Negan pulls away and squeezed her fingers. She squeezed back. Then her hand relaxed, and Negan realized that Mal had drifted off to sleep. Just like that. Even though he could not see her in the dark, he listened to the slow, deep rhythm of her breathing. He settled back and listened to the night and began to deconstruct the day in order to make what will happen tomorrow, but three seconds later he was asleep too. Above and around them the night spin its web of darkness as the world ground on its axis toward dawn.


	56. Chapter 52

Benny woke up.

He was still in hell... though he was immediately certain that he was now in one of the darkest rings of hell. Lalon grunted and spring out of his sleep. They had taken their shirts and shoes, leaving them shivering only in jeans. The ground on which Benny lay was hard-packed dirt. Cold and damp and smelling of decay. Benny sat up and wrapped his arms around his body. He had a lot of wiry muscle but no body fat at all, nothing to keep him warm down here in the clammy darkness.

Lalon tried to look at their surroundings. There was enough light to see, but it was shadowy and gloomy. The walls were also made from dirt that had been pounded smooth. Lalon raised his head and saw that the walls rise twenty feet above him, with no ladder, hand holders, or rope.

"There's no way to climb through it. Could claw a bit, but the dirt is pounded smoothly." Lalon said.

Benny started to get to his feet, but immediately cried out in pain and dropped to his knees. His whole body seemed to be composed of different kinds of aches stitched together into a tapestry of searing pain. The worst hurts were where he had been punched in the jaw, rammed in the stomach with the wooden stock of a shotgun, and kicked in the groin while he lay gasping on the ground, with Lalon being kicked and punched to the ground. Benny tried not to cry.

"You okay?" Lalon said, going on his knees.

Benny shook his head, fighting the tears and fighting the pain. Lalon could see the strength in him.

"I'm fine. I need to be warrior smart." He spoke in a fierce whisper through gritted teeth.

"OK. Now, try to get up. I'll help-"

"No!" He snarled at him.

The pain was enormous, and he dropped back onto his knees. A sob broke from his chest. Then another. While he knelt there, his minds did terrible things to him. It conjured Lalon speaking and laughing at the weak, skinny kid. At the "town boy" who thought he could be a warrior.

"Hey! Benny." He snarled at Benny and woke him from his mind. "You don't have to be a warrior and be so tough. I've seen you fight with me against the herd in Fairview. Don't act so heroic. I can help you."

"I appreciate it, but I need to fight my pain."

Lalon thought about it, then agreed to let himself to it.

When his mind went to the terrible implications of him being weak, endangering the lives of his people, and the coward who had run away, they were like nails driven into his flesh.

But sometimes shame is a more powerful engine than rage. Like rage, it burns hot; and like rage it tends to consume its own furnace. He bit down on the pain, devouring it, accepting the hurt as something he deserved, and fueled by its centering, he planted a foot flat on the ground, pressed the knuckles of his two balled fists into the cold dirt, and pushed himself up off his knees. Straightening his body made it feel like every bruise was being stretched to the ripping point.

"Warrior smart," Lalon said.

"Warrior smart," Benny said, but he loaded the words with scorn.

"Now ain't that just a stirring sight?"

The words were like a bucket of cold water over Benny's head. He jerked backward as if pushed, and he snapped his head upward to see three men looking down at them from the lip of the pit. One was the big one-eyed man with the flowing white hair who had brought them here. The man whose face was a melted ruin. The other was the stubbed head Calvin, smirking down at Benny like a plate of meat. The other was the brute bulldog face of Motor Hammer. They were smiling in ways that leached all the strength from Benny's limbs.

"Who are you?" Lalon demanded in a fierce snarl.

"'Who are you?'" Mocked the big man. His voice made their skin crawl. It almost sounds like Charlie Pink-Eye. Lalon can't wrap his head if this man was really Charlie? When Negan had hit Charlie, had the man survived and gone back into the burning camp? Or had the fires from that battle caught up to Charlie as he tried to crawl away? Was this Charlie Marion? The man he loathed for many of years.

"I'll bet you have a lot of questions, little Indian," said the Burned Man, as if reading their thoughts. "Well, think on this."

He tossed something down into the pit that landed between Benny's feet. It was a flower, an orchid. The petal is pure white you think it's fake. Benny bent and gingerly picked it up.

"A orchid is pure," said the Burned Man. "It's youth is so pure it lives so long. These orchids are my favorite, a signature to my calling. Hell, became famous all across the Ruins and in every town from Freehold to Fairview."

The men laughed at this, giving each other high fives.

"Charlie was not a hero or a savior. He's a man who is cowardice, sending children into pits and raise money. He's nothing but a monster, like any man in the Ruins."

"Maybe he was," Calvin said, smirking down at Lalon. "But he achieved so much and made history than the Flyer Frontiers."

He snorted at him, eyes burning into the Calvary Boy. "I know I had my differences with Charlie. However, you know who caused the pain me and boys have been through."

 _The hell is he riddling about_? Lalon cocked his head before Calvin realized at his reaction, clapping his thigh hard. "Oh, I forgot. Mally still hasn't told you everything. Too bad for you, thought you were friends."

Suddenly rage sparked Lalon, he jumped onto the dirt, clawing and scratching the hard and cold dirt into his fingernails. He then gives up and snarls at Calvin.

Soon enough Motor Hammer takes out a pipe that isn't his and struck in down on the pits and in the ground.

"The Calvary Boys was one of the few who survived what happened last year and the Claimers. They saw what happened, how Negan and his slut taken down KillGames. Twice from those fucking Saviors. They ain't saving people, they take and destroy people."

Benny wanted to throw the club at him, but he took a hold on to it. It was all he had.

"Negan saves people," Lalon stated. He wasn't afraid of these men. "Unlike you people, you want power. Survival for the fittest. People always fight against each other for pleasure, dominance, and power. But, what you do is a cowardice act, a sickening thought."

The Burned Man smirked, bending down to one knew to peer over the pit. "It won't matter to me, if you both live or die, little men. You live and you get to hold on the pipe. Maybe one day you'll be like us. Wouldn't that be something?"

Benny shook his head but said nothing.

"On t'other hand, if you die... well then, we got lots and lots of other kids who'd kill to have something like a nice piece of black pipe for when it comes to be their turn."

Benny finally managed to squeeze three words thought his gritted teeth. "Go to hell."

The men all laughed, and the big man hardest of all. "Hell? Boy- ain't you been paying attention? We're already in hell. The whole world's been in hell since the Black Night.

He stood up and nodded at the men. They vanished, but almost immediately other faces appeared around the edges of the out. Men and women. Hard. Faces with hard eyes and mouths that smiled with icy cruelty. A small rat-faced man and a boy who was clearly his son shoved their way to the edge of the pit and started calling numbers and taking money.

 _Bets_ , Benny knew with growing horror. _God... they're taking bets._

"You're all sick!" Yelled Lalon towards the crowd.

The crowd fell into an expectant hush, and every eye turned in the direction where to two companions of the Burned Man had disappeared. When they came back, both of them were wearing carpet coats. Between them was a pale figure that snarl and twisted and tried to bite the air.

"Welcome to KillGames," said the Burned Man.

And then they pushed the Infected into the pits with Lalon and Benny.


	57. Chapter 53

Mal was chased out of her dreams by monsters.

From the moment she'd fallen asleep, she had gone running through a nightmare landscape where gigantic trees rose in black trunks that towered a thousand feet above her, their leaves burning with intense yellow fire. Mal ran through a field of blackened grass, and with every step a withered white hand would shoot up through the soul to grab her. She dodged and jagged and stumbled as hand after hand burst through the charred topsoil to claw at her.

No Infected emerged... just the reaching hands with their broken nails and bloodless skin.

As she ran she called Negan's name, but the hot wind snatched his name away and tore it to soundless fragments. She could not see him anywhere. She ran and ran.

She saw Max walking slowly away from her among the sea of clutching hands. Mal ran to him and grabbed his arm and spun him around. Max stared at her with black eyes. Max's face was the color of pale honey wax, and his teeth were all broken stumps. When Max opened his mouth to speak, all that escaped was the starving moan of a Runner.

"Max? Oh, no. NO!" Mal yelled, and backed away. Pale hands grabbed her ankles and held her as Max took one unsteady step toward her, and then another. And another. Mal screamed again and kicked her way free just as Max's dry fingers brushed her face. Mal ran as ash drifted down from the burning trees.

"NEGAN!" She cried, but still her voice had no volume. No power.

There was movement and color off to her left, a flash of red, and Mal cut that way. She saw Dylan sitting cross-legged on the hood of a burned-out car, his face crewed up with concentration as he tried to repair the broken pieces of his father's fishing rod. Lying slumped against the side of the car was a slender figure covered with bright red blood.

Vix!

Mal hurried to her and knelt down, trying to figure out where her friend was hurt. "Vix! Vix... can you hear me? Max is... oh, god."

Vix's eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. There was still life in her eyes, a wet glimmer deep in the brown irises. Vix tried to smile. She began speaking very slowly and softly, and Mal had to bend close to hear.

"Everything out here wants to kill you, Mal," Vix said.

"Vix! Where are you hurt?"

Vix lifted a hand, and with one bloody finger she tapped her temple. "It hurts in here, Mal. Nothing in here works anymore. How could you lie?" Then the hand fell limply away, and Vix slumped over sideways, her last breath rattling from her throat.

Mal fell backward, kicking herself away from Vix. More hands burst through the dirt and clamped around her wrists.

"No!" Mal bellowed, and she twisted and kicked and hit the fingers until they broke apart and became hot ash. She spat out the ashes and scrambled to her feet. Max was still coming toward her.

"You should have never came here," Dylan said without looking up from what he was doing. "'Cause you know that you're all gonna die out here. Except you. You'll only be with him."

"Where's Negan?" Mal demanded.

Dylan looked up. Instead of eyes he had two empty black holes in his face.

"He's him. You'll let everyone die... and it's your fault."

Anger and revulsion warred in Mal's heart, but she backed away. Suddenly hands grabbed her. Not cold hands of the buried dead, but two large, warm hands. They touched her back, then her shoulders, and finally the sides of her face. Mal turned slowly, gratitude and relief flooding her heart.

"Negan... God! Where were you?"

Her voice trailed away. Negan was an apparition, his eyes were not the hazel color... they were wrong. His eyes glowed in one blue and one in red. Then in the flash the dreadful effect turned himself to Charlie. Charlie stood over her as a withered but powerful thing. His dyed hair was patchy and blotched. His skin was leached of color and there were clear signs of bites on his cheek and shoulders and arms. Worst of all, his head is dented from the smash of Negan's bat Ellie.

"Oh, Mal," he said, and then he smiled. Rotting lips peeled back from jagged teeth. "How much a fool you are."

-:-:-:-:-

Mal screamed herself awake.

She sat up, gasping, heart pounding, her body drenched in sweat. Cold starlight filtered through the leaves, casting the world into a blue-white strangeness, as alien as the dreamscape from which she'd just escaped.

Mal turned to Negan, surprised that her scream hadn't startled him awake. Or had the scream been part of the dream too? She touched his arm to gently shake him.

But his skin was as cold as ice.

"W-what...?" Mal's voice was hollow and brittle.

She shook him and he moved stiffly, his limbs already freezing into the rigidity of rigor mortis.

"No!" She fumbled at his throat, trying to find his pulse, needing to find at least the thread of it. All she found was slack skin beneath which nothing moved. "NO!"

Mal grabbed him and pulled him to her, a new scream rising like volcanic lava in her chest. How could this be? How was it possible? Had he been bitten? Where? When?

"Oh, fuck. Please don't leave me, Negan. Please." She sobs in a mess. He was like a block of ice in her tiny frame and her arms, and Mal cried out his name over and over again.

Negan stayed cold and dead in her arms.

Until he moved.

Mal recoiled from him, staring at him, her splintering mind scrabbling for that last bit of hope. _Please... let him be okay! Maybe he's just sick. I cant lose you, Negan. Please... please... please_!

Negan opened his eyes.

They were muddy glowing brown diseased eyes of a Runner.

With a snarl of impossible hunger, he lunged at her.

-:-:-:-:-

And she woke up.

The forest was as black as death. The crickets pulsed and the night owls hooted. Negan laid on the tree with Mal on top of his warm reality chest.

Mal touched his moving chest. Her heart hammered and hammered. Sweat poured down her face, mingling with her tears.

"Negan," she said gently. He moaned softly in his sleep, then he slowly opened his eyes. Brown eyes. Not glowing and muddy and black.

"What's wrong?" He said, touching her face with his thumb to feel the wet tears streaked over her cheek. "It's okay. I'm here, Mal. It's only a nightmare. I'm here."

Mal let herself snuggling against him. He held her as tightly as he could before going back to sleep. Mal did not sleep again the rest of the night.

She did not dare.


	58. Chapter 54

Tom was long up before dawn. He fixed a quick meal for himself and Sally, refilled their canteens from a small stream, and was ready to go by the time there was enough light to he able to distinguish shadows from substance.

It took Sally Two-Knives a little longer to climb out of the well of sleep, but after she'd eaten something and had her fill of water, she looked and sounded much better than she had the night before. "You'll live," Tom said with gentle humor.

"I've actually had worse," she said, carefully probing the knife wound beneath the bandage. "So have you."

He shrugged. "Fact of life."

Sally reached out a hand. "Help me up."

He did. They were both very careful about it, and Sally micromanaged the process with a lot of curses and complaints until she was on her feet and leaning against one of the rocks that formed their shelter. "Well," she said, "that was interesting."

"You shouldn't be up."

"Can't stay here. Besides, my horse is out there somewhere. I find her, I'll be okay."

"Riding a horse with a stab wound is-"

"A going to hurt, no kidding. Better than walking."

"You should try and rest for most of the-"

"Don't even try, Tom. It's kind of you to be nice to a lady- if we can suspend disbelief long enough to use that word for me- but you need to go find those boys, and I need to go find Negan and your girl. Well, _his_ girl now."

Tom had no argument for that or glare at Sally's sneaky comment. "Thanks, Sally. Can I do anything for-"

"Get your ass in gear, boy. You're burning daylight."

He smiled. It was only barely bright enough to see the path. Tom nodded and was about to step when Sally grabbed him by the front of the shirt with her good hand and pulled him in for a whopper of a kiss. When she finally pushed him back, he gasped and blinked like a trout on a riverbank.

"Wow."

"In case I don't ever see you again, Tom," she said, giving him a wicked little smile. "I don't want you to forget me."

"Um... not a chance. Wow." He gave her a last smile, turned, and vanished into the forest.

Sally watched him go. In the brief moment between his smile and his departure, as he turned away, she saw the smile fall away from his handsome face to be replaced by the face of the hunter. She departed what she's said the night before him.

"And hope God helps you, the Saviors, and everyone along the way."


	59. Chapter 55

Mal let Negan sleep until the whole forest was infused with a pink light. She studied the woods, looking for any signs of Infected. Or of the RK's. or Tom. No sign of the Greenman, either. For the moment it appeared as if they had the forest all to themselves.

"Hey," he said. Mal shyly smiled up at him.

"Hey."

"You didn't sleep."

"Couldn't."

"Should of kept me awake, baby girl."

"It's okay. I'm fine."

Negan stretched behind her and then sat up and yawned so hard his jaws creaked.

Their backpacks and gear were back at the way station. Or in the ashes of it. All they had was what they'd carried in their pockets. Matches, first aid kit, seeing kit, knives, ammunition, cadaverine. Nothing to eat.

Mal handed him her canteen. He took a huge gulp. "Take your flannel off."

Mal was shy about it- not from modesty but because she didn't really want to know how bad the burn was. It hurt less this morning, but her mind conjured images of charred ends of gangrenous flesh. Another scar added to her body.

The actual wound was almost disappointing. Three lines of blistered skin, each no wider than a pencil and each less than an inch long. The skin around the burns was puffy, but there was no sign of infection.

"Not too bad. Fuck, you made me scared shitless that you burned yourself badly on your pretty skin." Negan declared as he finagled cleaning the burns with a piece of bandage.

"Doesn't even hurt," she said, she was sure he didn't believe her.

Her stomach suddenly growled as loud as a hungry Infected. "We need to find food."

They removed their weapons from Mal's carpet coat and climbed carefully down from the tree. It was slow and painful process; they were both stuff and sore. As they dropped to the grass they both froze.

There was something at the base of the tree. Someone had placed several fist-size stones in a tight circle to act as a base on which was placed a large hand-carved wooden tray. Large, clean leaves covered the tray, and a wonderful aroma drifted out from beneath them. Negan lifted the leaves and gasped.

"Hot diggity dog!"

Mal's mouth fell open. The wooden plate was piled high with fat yellow mounds of scrambled eggs, thick fried potatoes, and a mound of fresh strawberries.

"What?" Mal asked, looking around. "Who-?"

"Greenman, dumnuts." He bent down and scooped a handful of eggs off the plate.

She eventually chewed. It was cold but delicious. It took two mouthfuls of eggs and three potatoes before she caught up with him. "Don't choke yourself."

Negan smirked. "I can put so much in my mouth I won't choke." His eyebrows then wiggled, and it made Mal laugh at his dirty humor.

"Why did he gave us this?"

"I seen him before, mostly a friend of Tom. Does give the creeps as to where the shit he comes out of." He rubbed his hands briskly over his prickly face. "So what's the plan, Negan?"

"Maybe we should go back and took a look at the field and the way station. From a distance to see anything. Doubt out packs are crisp and pure as a virgin."

"Sure, could warn Tom and the RK's about where we're going. Even a few Bounty Hunters." she said, brightening. "Sounds like a plan."

They shared the last of the eggs and potatoes and stuffed their pockets with the strawberries. They wiped the plate clean with leaves and left it at the bad of the tree. Mal wrote " _Thanks_!" in big letters in the dirt.

She turned and caught Negan watching her, his smile is small but compassionate.

"What?" Mal asked.

Negan snorted and shook his head. "It's nothing." Mal gave Negan a sly grin and bumped him with her hip. "Tell me."

A flush crawled over Negan's face, but his answer was straightforward, devastatingly honest. "Was about to tell you how much I fucking like you, Mal."

Mal grinned, kissing him on the cheek. "I fucking like you too, Negan." She teased, and Negan's eyes danced with mirth.

"Oh, baby, I really fuckin' love it when you swear like that. Gives me fuckin' chills."

Mal rolled her eyes and shoved his arm, smiling despite herself. "Shut up."

They walked under the canopy of cool green leaves. Birds sang in the trees, and the grass beneath their feet glistened with morning dew. The first of the day's bees buzzed softly among the flowers, going about their important work, collections nectar and taking pollen from one flower to another. Cyclones of gnats spiraled up from the grass and swirled through the slanting sunlight. The loveliness of the forest was magical and fresh, but it was also immense. Neither of them spoke, unable to phrase their reactions to the rampant beauty and unwilling to trouble the air with the horrors that haunted their hearts.

Despite being together, they felt incredibly alone. Desolate. Even though they knew that Tom, the RK's and the Saviors were somewhere in the same forest, it was as if everyone else was on a different place. Sanctuary was a million miles away. But at the same time, with Negan and Mal alone in the woods meant no worries of anymore but themselves. No disgrace or judgment upon them.

The rocky path wound down among trees and shrubs, and most if the way there was no evidence of what happened last night except the smell of ash on the breeze. Then they rounded a bend, and all that changed.

"Shit..." Negan said in a hollow whisper.

The field was a massive ruin. Trees had burned to stumps, bushes had been reduced to ash. The way station was nothing more than a blackened shell.

However, that was not the worst of it. Not by a long shot. Everywhere- on the field, collapsed over the glacial boulders, twisted into bony knots on the concrete slab by the station- they were merely dead, the life force burned out of them by the conflagration Mal had set loose with a tiny match.

It was all so still. A blasted expanse of ash and cracked bones. Mal lowered her head. "I'm sorry-"

Negan touched her arm. "You had to do what was right. We were in a shithole and had no other choice."

She nodded and Negan looked relieved, thinking that she was agreeing with him. Mal stepped into the ash and walked slowly over to the way station. The building was a total loss. Only the front wall still stood; the rest lay in heaps. Mal touched a finger to the outside wall. It was almost cool and covered with a thin film of soot. She nodded again, considering things very careful, and then used her finger to write a message.

**T/RK's**   
**We're Fine. Hope you are too. Heading on. You know where to look for us.**   
**M/N**

"So we're heading east then."

"I guess," she said. "To Wawona. It's that or I go by myself. I doubt you'll let me go off."

He narrowed his eyes and surveyed the way ahead. Past the blackened ruins, toward the green expanse of the forest and the mountains in the east. "I know you're a capable woman Mal. It's one of the many things I love you. But I can't stand the fact if Charlie's out there, and is alive and running the KillGames again, he'll- fuck. I don't want him to take you back, to touch you. And I swear to God if he does, I put that motherfuckin' cocksucking bitch down to the ground this time."

She smiled. "Then I'll stay until we're there."

Negan smiled generously and held out his hand, and Mal took it. Together they turned away from the charred graveyard of the dead and headed east. The road before them was tangled in weeds, but the sun glimmered like a promise on every blade of grass.

-:-:-:-:-

As they walked away they did not see the figure that stepped from behind a stand of fire-blackened pines. It was a tall man. Thin as a scarecrow in a black coat, with white hair that fluttered in the hot wind. He watched the two as they walked along the road.

The man moved as silently as a shadow as he crossed the field to the way station. He stopped and those cold eyes read the message written in the soot. His lips loved as he read the words, and then he chuckled to himself.

He stood for a long time with his lips pursed, considering the words. Then he used the hard, flat palm of his hand to wipe them out. All that remained was a smear of soot. The figure turned and looked at the road. Mal and Negan were tiny dots now, and as he watched they vanished into the far woods.

The man smiled and, quiet as death, followed.


	60. Chapter 56

Lugh let everyone sleep. He studied the woods, looking out for anything.

Alec accidentally laid beside Lugh, laying against his shoulder. He was a bit flustered and scared for what if the others wake up and find this. He never felt this way, the only person was his old friend that liked him, although he wasn't sure he liked girls anyway. Now, two shy people- mostly Alec which is surprise and cute to see- together and how will the next day gonna be. Maybe he should tell them. Not right now between all of this.

Alec made a low sound and opened his bright eyes.

"Hey," he said almost shyly, smiling up at him.

"Hey yourself."

"What time is it?"

"Half hour past dawn."

Alec stretched against him. Then Lugh ran his hand over the shaggy hair, moving a strand away from his face. Suddenly he leans in before Lugh pushes him away. "Gak! I have bad breath."

"I'm not too clean either." He said.

He chuckles. "Thank you for doing a better job than me for Rin."

"'s not much. She's still a pretty gal. But not a pretty as you, Lugh."

"Me?"

"You're kind, funny, sweet. And you know you're engines and motorcycles."

Lugh felt his breath catch when Alec leaned into his body, eyes heavy lidded and full lips parted as he closed the gap between them and pressed their mouths together in a slow, wet kiss. The combination of Alec nestled in over top of him and draped so warmly over him, their kiss, and the eager to take what the other man had to give. He licked into Lugh's mouth, tasting the warm tang of the sweetness that was just inherently Lugh, and Lugh's hands wound into his hair, tightening. It was when he moan softly into his mouth that his hands slid up to grip at Lugh's hips, arousal igniting in him like a kindled fire.

A loud whoop ripped Alec out of he and Lugh's cozy bubble, and they broke apart, faces flushed, to see half the room staring at them. Lugh ducked his head shyly, and Alec shot a dangerous look at the whooper: Killeen.

"I knew it! Johan, I believe you owe me two of those chocolate protein bars you've been hoarding." He turned to Alec and Lugh, dopey grin plastered across his face. "I knew you guys love each other."

Alec felt Lugh tense uncomfortably in his arms, felt the heat of the other man's embarrassment radiating against his cheek, and it set off something fierce and explosive in his chest. His arms tightened around Alec's waist protectively, pulling him in closer. "It's none of your fucking business-"

"Wait!" Sam shouted suddenly from his place beside Vix. "You two...are together?" He asked, eyes wide. "As in...together together?"

Vix blinked incredulously from Alec to Killeen to Sam. "Are you both serious? You didn't know? How long have you all been in a group together?" he laughed. "I knew they were together from when they first met, are you really telling me that the rest of you didn't know?"

Alec snorted. "This just happened a couple weeks ago, you couldn't have known since you fucking met us."

Vix grinned slyly. "I knew. I saw how you looked at each other. You're sneaking off, for god's sake."

Alec felt Lugh relaxing a little against him, and he brushed a kiss against his shoulder. Sam was still gaping uncomprehendingly, like he was trying to solve a particularly difficult math problem. "Did you had a fucking drink, Sam?" Alec teased at the old pal of his, and Sam laughed.

"Yeah, sure," he admitted. "But...hell, I didn't even know you liked men, Alec. Not that it's- not that it's a problem! I just didn't see it coming."

Alec shrugged innocently. "It never came up."

"When were you plannin' on tellin' us?" Johan asked.

Lugh ran a hand through his hair- his long hair, Alec noticed distractedly. "I wasn't tryin' to keep it from you. It wasn't like that. I just...I dunno. Figured eventually it'd just be obvious that that's what was goin' on with us."

"Well, it definitely is now that I've seen his tongue down your throat. Yuck!" Killeen chortled. "Congrats, you two. Now, it's the Megan shipping."

"Megan shipping?" Sam asked.

"Mal and Negan." Rin said as Vix check on her patching and put a new bandage.

"Oh. Wait- what?"

They gathered their packs before heading off to the east. Time rolled on, losing all the fears around the group, and Lugh stayed close to Alec, bumping shoulder-to-shoulder. Then... there was a rustling sound behind them. Alec stopped and turned cat-quick, his senses as sharp as the blades he carried.

"Lugh, Max come. Get your weapons out."

A figure moved from behind them as the turned to see, and walked slowly around a tree.

Not a Infected. Not Lalon or Benny. Not Negan or Mal.

The figure was dressed all in green. Leaves and sprigs of flowers were stitched into his clothes. Alec looked and see him indistinctly through the glaze of the shrubs. His face was made of leaves too.

Lugh knew the face and the clothing. He had seen them a dozen times. The kids had a Famous Infected Card with his picture on it. The Greenman.

The man removed his mask. It was really a piece of camouflage netting huge from the brim of a green cloth hat. Beneath the mask was a face that was seamed and suntanned. Bald on top and neared below, the hair as white. Laugh lines were etched around sad eyes.

Lugh stared at the man's face. There were scars, old and new. The Greenman bent and touched Alec's cheek. Lugh raised in concern as to why Alec didn't flinched. Usually he would flinch or bark at the man.

He smiled at him. "Welcome back."

Then he crossed his legs and lowered himself down to the grass. He sat in front of them, the sunlight making his white beard glow, and Alec flicked his head, and smiled. At him.

"Hey, old man."

-:-:-:-:-

Benny yelped in fear and he and Lalon backpedaled away as the Infected tumbled into the out. He pressed his back against the cold dirt wall and threw an arm up to shield his face. The creature struck the ground with a crunch of brittle bones. The crowd above them laughed at Benny like they were watching a clown act. People were calling fresh bets based on whether they thought the Infected had broken any bones that would prevent him from attacking the teens.

Lalon wanted to run back and forget about the Infected, but they were in a fifteen-foot-wide out. It wasn't a option. Then Benny was moving. He launched himself off the wall, raised the iron pipe over his head, and brought it down with all his force on the back of the Infected's head.

 _Crunch_!

The creature dropped to the ground. The crowd above went totally silent. A single ration dollar fell downward, sensing through the humid air.

The Infected twitched. One kick of the leg. A tremble of its fingers. Lalon growled deep in his throat and stomp his bare foot hard on its mushy head. This time the crunch was wetter.

The Infected stopped moving.

The crowd... went wild. Cheers and applause.

Benny lowers the pipe and looked up at the crowd. The Burned Man crunched on the edge of the pit, grinning like a ghoul.

"Well, well... I'll be double damned," he said. "Folks, it looks like we got us a bona-fide tag team of killers. Yes sir, that's what we have here."

The crowd cheered. Fistfuls of money flashed back and forth. "Give them another!" someone shouted, and instantly the chorus was picked up until everyone was yelling it.

"Okay, okay!" Laughed the Burned Man. "Customers always right. Nestor? Crab? Bring us two another gladiators. Let's have something really fresh."

The two assistants wore wicked smiles as they vanished. Betting ramped up until the oddsmaker had to yell at the crowd, "Give me a bloody chance to count, damn you!"

Benny tried not to shiver. In truth he was no longer cold, but he trembled from hair to toes as he waited for the next monster. A shadow obscured the opening, and the teens looked up shark up to see the long boom of a wooden crane swinging out over the edge. A figure dangled from the pulley, thrashing and twisting violently. A rope had been looped under its arms, and ice it was down, the rope would fall away and the Runner would be free.

The Burned Man leaned over the edge. "We don't want to damage the goods a second time, and see how you do in round two." He said, and the comment drew a fresh wave of harsh laughter.

Nestor and Crab turned the winch, and immediately the thrashing Runner began descending into the fighting pit. Lalon backed Benny to the wall. These Runner was massive. Burly, like a bull wrangler or one of those wrestlers Lalon seen in a magazine. Huge chest and stomach, massive arms, almost no neck.

Benny gripped the pipe and licked his lips. "Warrior smart." He muttered to Lalon.

Lalon nodded, curling his hand to fists. "Warrior smart, Benny."

"Let 'er go!" Ordered the Burned Man. Calvin and Nestor jerked the ropes from around the big Runner body and whipped it up and through the pulley. He landed heavily on its feet.

One landed facing the opposite side of the pit and the other right directly straight. Benny has one chance to rush for the first one and bash it with the club as Lalon takes care of the opposite side in a brawl. Benny surged forward, but before his first step touched he stops at what's happening behind Lalon.

"Look out!"

Above Lalon, Calvin pulls the ropes up after he drops in another Runner. It stared at him with those flowing dead eyes. Pale lips curled back from teeth that were still white and strong.

The Runner screamed and heaved of hunger and raised its hands and then lunged for Lalon.

"Got to make things fair, little Indian," The Burned Man said amid shrill laughter and catcalls.


	61. Chapter 57

Sally-Two Knives found her horse drinking from a stream. She clicked her tongue and the big Appaloosa- Posey by name- raised her speckled head and stared. Then she whinnied happily and trotted up the hill to meet Sally.

Sally sheathed her knife, patted the horse's cheek, and kissed her. "You big goof!" She scolded. "You ran off and left Mama out here all alone. What were you thinking?"

"Probably thought you were dead," said a voice from behind her. Sally whirled around, grabbing for her knife. The blade whipped out of its sheath, but the movement tore a cry of pain from Sally.

Despite the pain, she smiled as a man stepped out of the shadows beneath a tall spruce.

He was medium height, built like a wrestler, and his hair as grey streaked. He had a pair of machetes slung over his back and a .45 automatic in a Marine Corps web belt strapped to his waist.

"Damn!" Said Sally. "As I live and breathe!"

The man grinned. "I thought that crazy horse was yours. I tried to ride her but she tried to eat me, so we were both letting things calm down before we had another go at it. Alright, boys. It's clear."

Every truck and vehicle drive inside the forest, revealing itself from their disguise and camouflage through the forest.

Sally Two-Knives gave him a charming, coquettish smile. "Bud... why you and your Saviors are trying to steal my horse?"

Bud opened his arms. "Give us a hug, girl."

Sally did, but gently, hissing a little as Bud gathered her in his powerful arms. When he heard the hiss he let her go, ranging his eyes up and down and finally taking in the sling and the bandages.

"Whoa, now... what's wrong?"

"Well," said Sally, "the old girl ain't what she used to be." She told him everything. Bud and the Saviors listened with great interest. By the time Sally was done telling her story, Bud was nodding. "This all fits," he said, "but it's worse than you know. White Bear'd got more than seventy goons in his crew, and some of them are gangster types. Some are actual gangsters from before the Black Night."

Sally made a face. "Nice."

"Well, now Brother David's place is torched to fuck now. We head over to Wawona. But when heading there, no Bounty Hunters were at the cripple creak spot, only Bear's crew attacked. There's bad stuff happening in the east."

"I know." Sally narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "I've seen Arnica. I heard she gathered half of dozen people."

"Where? And how fast could she get them together?"

"Pretty fast. I know another place to me up in case of emergency."

He grinned and the other Saviors grinned as well. "Tell me, girl."

-:-:-:-:-

"How far is it?" Mal asked, peering ahead to the hazy mass of dark green in the distance.

"We're close to be as eight miles to Wawona."

The thought of the big hotel, with its frequent travelers and patrolled woods, was comforting. Maybe one they regroup, they can finally make a start on finding the new KillGames. "Many travelers go through there all the time."

"Like Preacher Jack," Mal reminded him, then added under her breath, "We'll have to be careful."

He took the last of the Greenman's strawberries and gave Mal half of them. "Not bad. But I rather cook up a big steak so rare. I do love me some meat."

"You do cook very good," Mal said. They walked, Mal keeps on thinking about the hotel. "Is it safe?"

"It's safe. Been there once, but there's no one leading the place. It's come and go."

The fields, valleys, and meadows through which they'd walked had been clear of serious threats. They'd spotted a few Infected, but each time, Mal and Negan circled around them and kept moving. Neither of them felt any desire to attack Infected unless there was no choice. Even thought it was early April and they were in higher elevations, the sun was hot. Most of the clouds had burned off.

"Holy," gasped Negan, reaching for his canteen again, "I'm sweating like a sinner. We should sit some of this out and start again when the sun's not four inches from burning out asses off."

"I'm for that," Mal agreed glumly, then brightened and pointed Negan to an apple tree.

They left the road and cut through a field to an overgrown orchard. They collected an armload of apples and settled down with their backs to a bullet-pocked stone wall. The stones were cool, and the apples were sweet. There was a burned-out farmhouse nearby, as beyond that was a barn that had once been painted bright red but that twenty-eight years had faded to a shade of rust resembling dried blood. A line of crowd stood along the peaked roof, dozing in the afternoon heat.

Mal and Negan took off their sweltering carpet coats, and both of them were soaked with sweat. They ate their apples in silence.

"Got fuckin' something, Mal?" He perched her chin up, getting a shy smile from her which made his heart tingle at the little affections.

"The way station. Brother David, and the sisters missing. Last night was no accident. It was planned. I think someone drove them down out of the mountains."

"You're not wrong." He said quickly. "Could be Preacher Jack, one of White Bear's gang, or Charlie Pink-Shit."

She suddenly got up as there is a scream in the distance. A Runner's screech. More came after it. Mal drew her gun before Negan slung the bat off his shoulder, curling in a tight grip. Negan twisted wildly around and saw the face of a Runner coming out the bushes. A tall, thin man dressed in a tunic that looked like it had been made from an old bed sheet.

It was Brother David.

Brother David was trying to climb over the broken stone wall. Two other Runners shambled around the side. Sister Shanti and Sister Suzanne.

Mal's face went pale in grief and anger. "God."

"Some sick bastard fed them to Infected. Let's put them out of their misery."

"Negan-!"

A Runner charges its way towards Negan. In a quick flash, he pushes the Runner aside and swung the bat and the Runners head hit the stone wall and finished it. More Runners were picking their way through tall weeds and stones. The faces of the two young sisters continued to run towards them. Mal and Negan kept backing up, moving pad the rust-colored wall of the barn. Mal raised and took her first three shots at Brother David and the sisters, ending their misery. She kept shooting as Negan swings and bashes close ones around their sides. Two more rushed at Negan. He swung his bat, catching one across the face; but the second crowded past.

Negan drove his knee into the Runner's groin. The Runner's hips bucked up from the impact, and Mal shoots before her magazine's empty. "Shit. This gun is going to bring more in."

More of them were straggling gadfly out of the barn. Farmers and women dressed in nurses uniforms and men in loggers shirts. Kids, too.

"Oh, shit!"

He heard Mal scream his name, but there were a Runner's clawing at her- the big on top of her, snapping its jaw as Mal tried to push it out of her. Negan was too busy to help her, three Runners chased after him down. The Runner snaps and twitches, inching its way close to Mal's neck.

And then a sound split the air.

" _WOOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOO_!"

It was a huge, barrel-chested war whoop. The kind Lalon let loose when he fought against a herd. Mal could hardly see past the growling, biting Runner, but she caught a flash of movement as something came from her left and slammed into the burly monster. The Runner flipped off her. The figure kicked and stomped many times and then the other was rolling the two Runners at Negan. Mal spun around on the ground, coming up on all fours.

The man who stood over her grinned through the grilled of a New Orleans Saints football helmet. He was tall, thin, but with, with a carpet coat augmented with metal cut from license plates, each from different state. He had a spear almost like Lalon's, except that on the end opposite the blade was a round metal ball as big as Negan's fist. He wore a pair of cheap black sunglasses and a good Cheshire Cat grin.

There was a yell and a grunt, and Mal turned to see another man in similar garb taking the head off a Runner with a powerful two-handed stroke of a heavy logging ax.

The two bounty hunters grinned at Negan. They were young, so Mal figured they had been children during the Black Night.

"Far out," said the man with the sunglasses. "Negan and Dudette Barbie. Wassssabi?"

Negan arched his head to the side, swaying his body into the motion like a cobra, a pleased smile curling his lips. "Dreaded Skillz and DJ Derby. I could get right down on my knees and suck your cocks. You're motherfucking life saviors." He reached over and pinched the DJ Derby's cheek affectionately, laughing as he turned brick-red at Negan's words.

"Babelini!" DJ Derby smiled. "No problems, dude."

Dreaded Skillz nodded. "Besides that, what you you Menehunes doing out here?"

"Trying not to die," grunted Mal as she swung her gun at the Infected who charged at her from DJ Derby's blind side. The Infected went flying backward with a shattered jaw.

"Dudette's no Barbie, brah," said DJ Derby, as his partner nodded.

"I know, right? Kahuna was on when he said little cat's hyper-fierce gnar gnar."

Mal growled and turned to Negan. "I had enough of weird fucking languages. What the hell are they speaking?"

"Surferese. Their parents lived in California, whole surfer stuff."

She made a face, the same scowl Negan recognizes. "Guys, got some Runners left."

DJ Derby turned; and if he was concerned about the ten Runners circling them, he managed not to show it. In fact, he managed to look bored. "Oh, yeah," he said, "good point." He turned to Dreaded Skillz. "Dude?"

"Dude," he agreed, as if his partner had just said something profound. To Mal he said, "You hang back. We'll jack these land-sharks."

DJ Derby stepped toward the rushing Runners and swung the ax low and wide. The big blade sheared through the knee of the first Runner and the calf of the second, and they both went down in a snarling tangle. Dreaded Skillz darted past him and with two lighting-fast swings crushed their skulls with the iron ball on the end of his spear.

"Dog," said Dreaded Skillz, adjusting his shades, "these land-sharks are seriously truckin'."

"Chyeah," snorted DJ Derby. "What's that all about?"

There were eight Runners left.

"Dude-four on the left," said DJ Derby. "Go agg."

Dreaded Skillz grinned. "Always aggro."

They waded in, ax and spear whirling and striking and smashing and cleaving. Mal stumbled backward from the carnage as pieces of flesh and bone pelted her. She watched with how reckless these men are, and how so bizarre they are. Negan leaned back, the bat rested on his shoulder, grinning at their carnage.

"These people are crazy."

"They're not too bad."

"Dude!" Called Dreaded Skillz, and DJ Derby pivoted as one of the Runner children jumped at him, trying to bite his thigh. DJ Derby twisted out of the way and killed the little one with a stomp of his steel-reinforced boot. And then, suddenly and inexplicably, it was all over. Not one of the Runners was moving and not one of them was whole. DJ Derby and Dreaded Skillz stood in the center of a circle of gory detritus. Dreaded Skillz looked around, nodding to himself. "Dude," he said

DJ Derby nodded in agreement. "Totally, dude."

They turned to Mal and Negan, pulling off their helmets. Dreaded Skillz had long brown hair and a soul patch under his lower lip; DJ Derby had long black hair and a goatee. They were both very tan and when they smiled, their teeth were eye-hurtlingly white.

Mal cleared her throat.

"You people are crazy." She suggested.


	62. Chapter 58

Tom knelt by a cold campfire and studied the ground. This was the second place where he'd found Benny and Lalon's footprints and signs of violence. The first time had been the spot where Sally Two-Knives had tried to rescue the teens. There were indeed two dead men there, and Tom recognized them. Denny Spurling and Kevin Watts, bounty hunters of the low-life variety who usually ran with a third man named Stanley Stosh. Still had given them a little taste of their own medicine. Rough justice, but justice of a kind.

Tom knew Sally's history. She'd been a rough, hard-edged girl in Seattle, her mothers were Roller-Derby blockers with one of the Rat City Rollergirl teams. Sally was only a teenager when the Black Night came. She'd been the mother of two little kids in Seattle's quarantine zone, and she'd fought her way across Seattle to a small apartment. By the time Sally for back to her home, the lobby was splashed with blood. It took her a couple of years to tell Tom the whole story. It came out in broken fragments, and none of it was pretty. There was no happy endings, and when she reached the tenth floor apartment, all she found was heartbreak.

Broken as more than half-crazy from loss, Sally headed south and made as far as Portland. She raided a sporting goods store for weapons. Previous looters had already taken the guns, so she loaded up with knives, including the two bowie knives that eventually became her trademark and her name.

It was nearly two years before she made it into Mariposa Country, where she met Tom and discovered that there were towns filled with survivors. Tom remembered the Sally he's first met: filthy, wild-eyed, almost feral, and more than half-dead from bacterial infection she'd picked up from drinking bad water. He had gotten her first to a quarantine zone and then into town.

Tom knew that Sally felt she owned him a debt, but in his view, if she helped someone else, then a different kind of infection would spread. Generosity could be as contagious as the Infected plague as long as enough people were willing to be carriers.

Tom rose from where he'd been crouching as he studied the scene.

Something caught his eye, and he parted some weeds and saw Benny's bokken lying there. He picked it up. It was undamaged. Tom rigged a sling and hung the sword across his chest. As he did so he walked slowly around the clearing, looking at the prints. There were five distinct sets. Benny's waffle-soles shoes and Lalon's heavy roper shoes. Sally's cross-grained hiking boots. Prints that match the shoes of the two dead men. And a fifth set that entered the camp from upslope. Tom placed his foot into one of the prints, and it dwarfed his. Tom was not a big man, and he wore a size nine-and-a-half shoe. This print had to be at least fourteen extra wide, and the impression was ground well into topsoil. A big man. Tall and heavy.

Like Charlie. Tall, slim but heavy.

Tom continued to walk the edges of the clearing until he found an even deeper set of footprints leading away. Same shoes, but clearly a heavier footfall. The answer was there to be read. There were no trace of their shoes, which meant that the big man had carried the boys off.

That have Tom some hope. If they were dead, he would have been left for the crows. If they were alive and being carried, then even a big man could not move at top speed. And it was virtually impossible to cover your tracks while carrying a burden.

Tom was not carrying a burden. He could move very fast, and even a blind man could follow those tracks. He set out, moving quickly. He had the kinds of lean and wiry body that was built for running, and he knew how to run. Two hours later he found the remains of a campfire and the clear and distinct marks of Benny's waffle soles. The campfire was almost cold. Dirt had been kicked over the small blaze, and it had cooled more slowly than if it had been doused with water. Tom judged that he was now no more than four hours behind the big man. He was making up the time he'd lost by tensing to Sally last night; and the big man had stopped to rest. When they'd started out again, the boys were walking instead of being carried. Good.

"Hold on," he murmured aloud. "I'm coming for you."

-:-:-:-:-

The tail of prints left by the boys and their captor was easy for Tom to follow, but the direction was confusing. Instead of hearing straight to high ground, where survivors preferred to make their camps, this trail was circling around to head almost due east. That trouble Tom. Could KillGames have been moved to east of Idaho? Or was this man taking them somewhere else?

Tom heard make voices farther up the path, and he cut quickly behind a line of thick brush and crept toward them in silence. The men spike with the uncaring loudness of people who were not afraid to be heard. There were three of them, standing in a clearing formed by the crossroads of two well-used trails.

Tom recognized one of them: Stanley- the surviving partner of the two men Sally had killed. His fashioned Arab scimitar was slung from his waist. The others were strangers; big, brutal-looking men. One was a red headed who wore a necklace of finger bones; the other was brown-skinned and wore matched .45 automatics in shoulder holsters. Tom edged closer to listen to their chatter.

"I still don't get why you want to try and well him to Bear," said the gunslinger.

"Yeah, why risk it!" Agreed the redhead. "Bear don't want to make deals with you, Stan. He wants to feed you to the zoms and be done."

"Nah, you guys got it wrong," insisted Stanley. "If I bring him Negan, then its gonna be forgive and forget. You'll see."

"We'll see the Bear nail your scalp to a tree with you still wearing it," said Gunslinger, and Redhead laughed with him.

"Seriously, man," said Gunslinger, "you ought to out your losses and head north. Go up to Eden or Fort Snyder. Get outside of Bear's backyard, 'cause even if you manage to bring Negan or that whore of his, Bear'd just take them from you and do to you what he did to Bobbie. Stake you out and feed you to the swarm. We tried to tell Bobbie the same thing- but did he listen? Nope. Now look what happened."

"I know," said Stanley softly. "That was ugly. Bobbie wasn't a bad guy. And it's not fair for White Bear to blame us for what happened to Charlie. I know how much the Bear wants Negan." He produced a piece of paper and shook it at them. "You see the prices he wants? The Bear wants the whole bunch of them, and he'll kiss my ass if I bring them in. All of 'em. Negan, that skank Mal chick, and all those rat-meat Saviors."

Redhead took the paper and read it, nodding. "Yeah... a man could retire off of this."

"If you're lucky," said Tom as he stood up from behind the bush, "it'll cover your funeral expenses."

The three men spun toward him. The black gunslinger made a grab for his twin .45's, but Tom drew and fired in a single smooth move that was too fast for the eye to follow. Gunslinger pitched backward, a neat round hole punched into his forehead above the left eyebrow.

That left Stanley and Redhead standing on either side of the corpse, both of them gaping in wide-eyed horror. "Holy fuck," whispered Stanley. "Tom!"

Redhead sneered. "I know who it is." He narrowed his eyes to feral slits. "You just shot an innocent man, pardner. You don't know what kind of trouble you're-"

Tom put a bullet in the dirt between the man's feet.

"Save it for someone who cares," he said quietly. "Lose the hardware."

The smoking barrel of the gun offered no option for debate. Weapons clanked as they fell to the ground.

"All of it," warned Tom.

They looked disgusted but began removing knives, two-shot derringers, strangle-wires, and brass knuckles from hidden pockets

"Kick them away. Good. Now, listen to me," said Tom, his eyes flat and hard. "You guys have one chance to walk out of this alive."

"What are you offering?" Demanded Redhead warily.

"Straight exchange. You answer my questions and I let you walk out. If you know anything about me, you'll know that I'm a hard guy to lie to, but you'll also know I keep my word. You walk out and go somewhere else. I don't see you again. You don't work these hills ever fucking again."

Stanley snorted. "What's it it to you where we work? Way I heard it is that you lost your nerve, that you're running from White Bear. White Bear says this whole area is his now. He's bringing in more muscle than you can handle, so you're cutting out to save your ass. Fairview been kissing our asses and you are as well."

"Anyone really believe that?" Tom asked, amused.

"Doesn't matter. With you gone, then the Saviors who have been control this part of the country, the Bear will own the whole Ruins, and folks will believe what he wants them to believe. Bear's like that."

"Everyone needs a hobby," said Tom neutrally.

"What is it you want to know?" Asked Stanley. "To let us walk?"

"First, I want that piece of paper," demanded Tom. "Give it to me. Don't be cute about it either. Put it on the ground, weight it down with a rock. Then step back."

Redhead did as he was told. He backed up until Tom ordered him to stop. Tom stopped and plucked the paper from under the rock and glanced at it. There were four text and it read:

_**Reward for Murders. The payment will be delivered at KG** _

_**Any Saviors: ALIVE (one year's ratio dollars); DEAD (one month's ration dollars)** _

_**Mal: ALIVE (two years' ration dollars); DEAD (one month's ration dollars)** _

_**Ngean: ALIVE (five year's ration dollars); DEAD (one year's ration dollars)** _

Tom stuffed it in his pocket. "Who's looking?"

"Everyone's looking," said Redhead. "Whole KillGames filled with hunters working on his trail."

"Paper says 'payment at KG.' KG for KillGames?"

"Yeah. This is all off the record, so to speak," said Stanley, grinning at Tom with uneven yellow teeth. "From what I heard, they'll pay double if that bitch is brought to KillGames with some spunk left in 'er. People say how she killed all those Claimers in a second. That means she'd last a whole week, maybe two in the pits. There's serious money in the KillGames."

He growled how he said Mal's name. He didn't have time for this.

And suddenly Redhead made his lung. He kicked a baseball-size rock at Tom and charged forward in a powerful tackle. They must have shares some kind of signal, because Stanley was only a half step behind him. Redhead caught Tom around the chest, and Stanley slammed his shoulders into Tom's thighs. The three of them crashed backward into the bushes in a cloud of torn leaves, dust, grunts, and yells.

And then a single male voice let loose a high-pitched scream.

A death scream.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Lalon flung himself to one side as the big Runner lunged. He hit the ground in a sloppy roll, coming up too fast, slamming into the opposite wall. He's tried to snatch a large rock in the dirt.

Benny was busying hitting at the one Runner, but on it's head was made of liquid metal, covering the top, making the pipe _twang_.

The crowd cheered as Benny reacting the helmet Runner and Lalon with no weapons to defend himself. The Runner turned, and screamed. The sound was full of hatred.

The Runner took a lumbering stepped toward Lalon. However, its foot came down on the big rock and it rolled under the creature's weight. Lalon seized the opportunity and jumped forward, trying to land one of the kicks. A jumping front thrust, and his foot missed the stomach and struck him in the left hip. Instead of knocking the Runner backward, it spun his mass, and with his weight already unstable from stepping on the rock, the creature toppled off balance and fell. Lalon fell hard on his butt, and pain shot from his tailbone all the way up his spine and ignited fireworks in his brain. He usually never falls on his butt, but this hurts.

Even through the pain, he knew that if he just say there, he'd be dead and Benny too. With sparks still flashing in his eyes, he twisted around into his hands and knees and fished for the rock.

The roar of the crowd blocked out the yells and moans of the Runners and the sounds it made getting back to its feet. Just as Lalon's fingers closed around the cold rock, the icy hand of the Runner closed around the back of Lalon's neck. The Runner plucked him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Cold spittle splattered on his naked shoulders as he was pulled toward that awful mouth.

Lalon shrieked in pain and fear and swung the rock with both hands up and over his head. It struck the Runner's forehead hard enough to send a jarring vibration down through the metal and into Lalon's hands.

The Runner did not let go.

"Uh-oh!" Jeered Calvin, sparking more laughter.

Lalon felt the rough edges of the Runner's teeth begin to close around his shoulder. He screamed and swung the rock again and again and again. The teeth punched him, and the pain was unbelievable. But with the next swing of the Rick the Runner lost its grip on him, and Lalon dropped to the floor. He landed hard and instantly scuttled away like a spider, craning his neck to look over his shoulder as the Runner staggered backward, its eyes becoming dull with confusion. The front of its skull had a grooved look where the rock had hammered it.

But there was bright, fresh blood on its lips!

Then Benny came behind the Runner. He managed to thrust the pipe through under the creatures chin and into its brain. He rushed towards it, and swinging the pipe with so much force that he could feel his own muscles pulling and tearing. Spit flew from his mouth; the world seemed to vanish behind a red haze as he brought the black pipe club down over and over again.

The Runner fell against the wall and still Benny hammered.

The creature's feet slipped out from under it, and Benny beat on it as it slid down to the dirt floor. It's hands fell limply to the ground, and Benny never let up. Only when the creature slumped and fell sideways, his head a lumpy mass that no longer resembled a skull, did Benny pause, the gory club held high.

The two Runners are dead. The crowd cheered. Benny dropped the pipe. "Lalon." He gasped at the sight of Lalon and what he is witnessing.

Lalon twisted his head to look at his shoulder. The flesh was raw and puckered and torn. Blood poured down his chest and back.

"Oh, damn," Lalon whispered.

He had been bitten.


	63. Chapter 59

Mal, Negan, DJ Derby, and Dreaded Skillz stood in the road and watched the three Infected shuffle up the hill.

Dreaded Skillz pulled down his sunglasses and peered over the dark lenses at the dead monk and sisters. "That's a bummer. Brother David's trippy but totally boglius."

"I can't understand anything you're saying." Grumbled Mal irritably.

"Yeah, okay," Dreaded Skillz chuckled, "the Derb and me are friends with Brother Dave. Between you and me, cutie, I think Derby's sweet of Shanti."

"She's bootylicious-," began DJ Derby.

"English," insisted Mal.

"She's fine." Then DJ Derby looked down, and his goody surfer grin drained away to reveal genuine sadness. "She was fine. Sweet, too."

"I'm sorry," said Negan. "They were good people. They didn't deserve this shit."

"Hey, Negan bro. You said to meet you here and then cruising to Wawona, so we caught the wave and here we are."

"Nice timing to save our asses," said Negan appreciatively. "Thanks."

"Hey, our pleasure," Dreaded Skillz said with a grin. "You saved our butts enough times."

"Totally," said DJ Derby. "Wawona's not far from here. Good place to kick back. We'll head there after to find our scavenger team."

"Okay. We'll meet you then, again." Mal said.

"Wawona's only six or seven miles." DJ Derby looks at the dead old friends. "This way they are killed? That's got Charlie's tag on it, back in his days."

"Totally," said Dreaded Skillz. "Charlie or White Bear. They used to run in the same pack; they got a whole lot in common."

"Yeah, and I don't like the idea of the kahuna running those hills." He glanced at Mal and Negan. "White Bear's no friend of you, Negan, and that's for sure."

"Well, I'm about to blast through his door with my huge dick."

Dreaded Skillz gave a toothy grin. "Totally, dude. Even you, I'll bet you're fierce as a tiger shark, Blonde, but this is about speed, too. We're gonna boogie like banshees. We got tricks for this, and believe me, you don't know 'me."

DJ Derby nodded. "We got to catch a monster wave, dig?"

"But-" Mal began, but left the rest unsaid because without a single additional word, Dreaded Skillz and DJ Derby turned and began running down the road. They ran with the easy grace of athletes. Mal knew that her and Negan could never match their speed.

Mal took a few steps after them, but it was more out of frustration than any hope of catching them. Then she turned to Negan. "God, people are crazy."

He chuckles. "Even you?"

Mal giggled. "I know you're crazy, but not crazy to be like them. Now what do we do?"

Negan sighed and adjusted the bat over his shoulder. "We go to Wawona. At least we have time to think and have good news on where the KillGames are." Then he added, "Dudette."

Mal giggled, and that laugh was worth more to her than all the homespun comforts in the world. With Negan, he knows how to make her laugh and feel at home. They turned and headed down the road to Wawona.

-:-:-:-:-

It hurt to ride her horse, but Sally managed it and rejected the offer from the Saviors to ride in their vehicles. She swallowed the pain and discomfort and kept moving. There were four horses following her and three cargo vehicles up the winding mountain path; other figures moved through the forest to either side of the road. Bud walked beside Sally's horse.

Sally turned gingerly and looked back at the crew they were assembling.

The Saviors drove in their vehicles, all slugged with weapons and forever faces. A barrel-chested man riding a one-eyed Tennessee walking horse was Queen Arnica, and she wore a necklace of a dust light tear drop and her sword hung by her left hip. Behind her, Basher Clay was discussing pre-Black Night baseball with Hector McGinnis, a gigantic man. The three horses behind them bore a little dark-skinned woman- Diana LaRose- and her twin sons, Kaiden and Dieter. The twins were short, but they were nearly as wide as they were tall, and neither of them had ever lost a fight except to each other. There were others, too, Bounty Hunters and trade guards, and the scavenger-turned-closure-expert Conan Mike.

The crew amused Sally. Except for LaRose and her sons, they were mostly loners like Sally, people who preferred to live hard and alone in the wild of the Ruins. Often the only connection they had to the towns was through Negan. Maybe a case could be made that few of them were nice people, but all of them were good. They were people Negan and Tom trusted, and that counted for a whole lot. Sure, they are few who had a grudge against Negan, with his forcefully and dominant brutality, however, everyone had their experience of doing things that are considered disturbing.

And there was not one of them who liked the idea of White Bear coming in to take over the territory. It had been tough enough under Charlie's reign, because Charlie held contracts from every Eleven Towns, and anyone who wanted word had to go through him. Charlie always took a slice. White Bear was supposed to be worse. Younger, bigger, meaner, and- from what folks who knew both men said- smarted. White Bear was an organizer, unlike Charlie. The kind of man who inspired others to follow but ruled with heavy hand. If he got a solid foothold, then everyone was going to be jumping whenever White Bear yelled "frog."

Plus, there were the rumors of KillGames. Everyone knew that it was back, the Saviors needed info on the whole deal, but some of the rumors said that it had changed. That it was worse.

The men and women who walked or rode up this hill were not fans of KillGames. Not in the least. It was the Saviors, the antithesis of the freedom they treasured. Many of them experienced the horror of those games, the violent battles they went on. And now most of them had kids now, or had lost kids during those games. KillGames was an abomination, and they all wanted to see it burn.

Sally rode, eating her pain and drawing her plans. All that mattered now was finding Negan in time.

-:-:-:-:-

Tom crashed backward into the brush with both men clamped around his body. There had been no chance at all for him to avoid the hit, but as they fell he wrenched his hips and shoulders around so that he wouldn't land first. They hit hard, with Tom on top, Stanley landing on his left side, and Redhead taking the full brunt of his own weight and nose of the mass of the others. Redhead's back struck a stone the size of a football, and the bounty hunter screamed so loud that it chased the birds from the trees. The scream was almost loud enough to mask the sound of his spine shattering. His arms flopped limply away from Tom, and he lay gasping and dying under the weight of the man he had tried to kill.

Tom ignored the man's screams. Without a moment's pause, he twisted sideways and hammered Stanley on the ear with the side of his balled fist. Stanley let go of Tom's legs and tried to block, but Tom twisted around and kicked Stanley in the chest hard enough to spill him and came out of the roll in a near handspring, driving both of his feet into Stanley's face. The man's head jinked sideways on his neck, and there was a sharp, wet _snap_! Stanley collapsed into a lifeless sprawl.

Up the slope Redhead was still screaming. With a grunt of anger and disgust, Tom scrambled up the slope. The crippled man saw him coming, and his scream changed to a whimper. He tried to scramble away, but his legs were dead and his arms barely flapped.

Tom squatted down and assessed the man's condition. Then he put a finger to his lips. "Shhh." The other man fell silent, though he stared with eyes that were huge and filled with terror. "Your back's broken."

Redhead began to cry.

"Listen to me now. You're done. You know that. I can leave you here like this and you can spend your last hours screaming. Lot of Infected in these woods. With your back broken, you might not even feel it when they start tearing chunks out of you. After that... well, you'll reanimate, and then you're going to lie here for the rest of time. Crippled and undead and useless."

Redhead was blubbering, mouthing unintelligible words. Tom leaned toward him. "Or... you can buy yourself some grace. You square things with me, and I can ease you down. You'll never feel it. It's your call."

The reality of it all hit Redhead, and he stopped mewling. He stared at Tom with eyes that suddenly possessed a dreadful wisdom about the nature of his world. Tom could see the understanding blossom in the man's eyes.

"Okay..." Redhead whispered, then hissed in pain.

Tom nodded. He didn't gloat. That never occurred to him. Maybe before he was ruthless, but he'd changed. He removed his canteen and gave the man a sip.

"Who took the boys from Stanley's buddies after they were ambushed?"

"W-White Bear. They were Charlie's guys. White Bear's tearing up everyone from Charlie's Calvary Boys, 'cause of what happened to Charlie."

"Why? Why does White Bear care about what happened to Charlie?"

Redhead almost smiled. "Are you... kidding me?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding you? What's the thing between Charlie and White Bear?"

"Jeez, man... you can see it when you look at him."

"I never met White Bear."

"Yeah, but Negan had. He was there when those Saviors burned down the first KillGames."

"What? There was no one there like him."

"He... wasn't calling himself White Bear then. That was something he came up with after he got hurt."

"You're not making sense," Tom said, "and you're beginning to piss me off."

Redhead looked instantly afraid. "God... please don't leave me like this!"

"Shh, shh," Tom soothed. "Just tell me about White Bear and Charlie."

"It's all about KillGames," said the man, and Tom noticed that his voice was beginning to fade. Shock was setting in, and the man didn't have long. "When Negan burned down the first KillGames, Charlie lost a lot of people, a lot of friends. Negan knows that. But what he don't know is that someone close to him was burned in that fire. Used to go by the name of Jim."

Tom grunted. "Jim Marion? Charlie's brother? He was at KillGames that day?"

"Yeah. He got messed up pretty bad, too. Face all burned, lost an eye. Almost died. Charlie sent him way over into Yosemite, to a place he has there. Jim got real sick. They say he died for a while. They say that while he was dead he had a recantation of some old Indian medicine man, and that when he came back he wasn't Jim Marion anymore. He was-"

"White Bear," Tom finished, shaking his head. "White Bear is Charlie's brother. I'll be damned. That's why he wants Negan."

"Negan... and that girl, Mal. Charlie and him weren't that great with each other to making the KillGames. So when Jim got sick, Charlie took most care to the Tradepost and continued working on the KillGames, making alliances with Glory and her men, and the Claimers. He wants Negan so bad that it's made him even crazier. When he heard Negan coming after him, he put everyone he has out into the Ruins. There's a hundred pair of eyes looking for him. Him, his girl, and the Saviors won't make it off this mountain."

Tom didn't comment on that. Instead he asked, "Okay, now tell me one more thing. Where's KillGames?"

"If I tell you... will you do what you promised? Make it easy? Keep me down?"

"I promise."

"Swear it, man. I... I used to be Catholic. Swear on the baby Jesus."

Tom sighed and held his hand to heaven. He swore.

The man told Tom where KillGames was. Tom swore again, much louder.

The man tried to smile, but he was fading like a setting sun. "You know, man... I almost wish I could see the Saviors go up against White Bear and KillGames."

"Yeah, I'll bet you'd like to see them red to the Infecteds. Including me, too."

A terrible coughing fit hit him, and he hacked and coughed until blood mottled his lips and his face turned the color of sour milk. Them his eyes flared wide and his mouth formed a small " _Oh_ " and he stopped moving. His eyes stared upward into the vast blue forever. The forest was silent except for the buzzing of insects.

Tom's face and body were as still as the dead man's, but inside his heart was hammering with fear. "KillGames," he murmured. "Oh God..."

He turned in the direction of KillGames. There was no need for tracking now. It was no longer a hunt. It was a trap, and he was heading straight into it. But he had no choice.

He ran.


	64. Chapter 60

The found a road with a rusted sign that read "Wawona Hotel, six miles." The sign was pocked with old bullet holes and badly faded, but they could read it, and it filled them with new energy. A line of cumulus clouds swelled out of the west, their bottoms shaved flat by crosswinds and condensation, their tops reaching upward like puffy white mountains.

For a while they walked hand in hand. They topped a rise and paused, watching a spectacle. Over the rise, the road wound like a snake through farm fields that had long since grown wild. A telltale snarl bounced off the trees up above, and Mal had her machete raised instantly, relieved to see that that particular reflex had stuck. Negan hefted Ellie up, fingers tightening on her handle as they exchanged glances and gingerly stepped toward the sound.

A single Infected stumbled out from the brush, all rotting limbs and long, tangled hair full of twigs. Negan bounced on his heels beside Mal. "Dibs!"

Mal shot him a look that she completely missed for how quickly he darted forward, swinging Ellie in a wide arc that caught the Infected squarely in the side of the head. The force sent it straight into a nearby tree, its skull cracking like an egg between the bat and the bark. Negan wrenched Ellie back, slinging a bit of grayish brain matter and flesh, his face alight with glee as he turned to Mal. "Damn, that felt good!" He grinned, returning to his place beside Mal and walking in step with her again. "Even then, there's something more fucking satisfying about doing it up close like that, you know? Not quite with your bare fucking hands, but closer than you can get with a gun."

For all Negan had grown, there was still that destructive drive in him, something both childlike and decidedly not. Kindling embers of something molten and powerful.

Mal loved that about him, found herself drawn to his flame, loving how warm it kept her, how alive it made her feel.

"Yeah," she agreed, fingering over the barrel of her gun, "I know." The cracking of twigs and another snarl saw both of their head whipping to the side, and this time, Mal decided to play the game. "This one's mine," she said, and she felt herself returning Negan's wide grin. She wove in the road, coming up on the Infected from the side and striking it brutally right across the top of the head. She jerked the machete back out of the bone with both hands, kicking the thing full in the chest and watching it collapse to the ground.

Negan bounded up, whistling long and low. "Goddamn, Mal!" He nudged the crumpled body with a booted foot, sounding impressed. "You just about took that fucker's face clean off. You always do that cute-ass little kick when you pull the machete back out? Fuck, I'm not gonna lie, baby that's pretty hot."

Mal snorted and shoved his shoulder, trying to cover for the pleased flush of pink coloring her cheeks. "Shut up. Let's keep going."

Negan rocked back on his heels, eyes sweeping up and down Mal's body. "Sure thing, Mal. How about we start ourselves a little wager here, though? Some friendly fucking competition. Whoever takes out the most dead ones by the time we get back gets the last one of those cookies I'll be making."

It was impossible to say no to him when he was like this, wide-eyed and bouncing around like a rabbit. He was all toothy grins and mile-long legs, and he was looking at Mal like a kid who wanted nothing more than for their best friend to play along.

"Yeah, alright. I'm game."

And, of course, since Negan was never one to be outdone, the next hour was spent with them tracking down and killing walkers, competing for more creative kills each time. Negan managed to take out two at once with Ellie, and Mal responded by beheading one completely and cracking its skull beneath the heel of his boot while Negan looked on with fascinated glee. Negan turned one's head to a rotten mush in the dirt, and Mal had sliced clear through one's jaw and accidentally knocked out its teeth as it tried to bite down on the blunt end of her machete before ending it with a blow to the temple.

It was when the next few miles Negan suggested that he could climb into a tree and launch a sneak attack on an incoming Infected that Mal finally had to turn him down.

"Negan," she laughed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "No. If you do that, you're gonna break both your legs."

Negan attempted a truly laughable fake pout before slinging an arm over Mal's shoulders and kissing the side of her head. "Got no fuckin' faith in me, Mal. I'm fucking offended. You look me in the eyes with them sweet baby blues and tell me that shit wouldn't have been badass."

Mal craned her head to look up into Negan's glinting hazel eyes. "It would have been badass," she conceded, "'til you broke your fucking legs. Now come on." Suddenly one had ended up on top of her, snarling and snapping. Negan had been just about to take it out, but Mal gotten there first, sinking her bare hands into the thing's softened skull through its eyes sockets. The end result was effective, if impractical and messy, and she was now spattered with sticky blood.

She takes off her blood covered flannel shirt, leaving her in a tank top, and tied the flannel around her waist. "Great. Going to sink all the way through. Well, I rather go for this than the cadaverine. The cadaverine isn't that much stronger than the actual flesh. It's why you put a huge dose of it on yourself."

"Fuck, you little badass. I'm pretty sure hearing you talk about shit makes me love you even more. You don't fuck around, do you? Rippin' people's throats out with your teeth and covering yourself in guts pretendin' to be a Infected. Shit, my girl's so fucking smart-" Negan's praise was abruptly cut off by seeing something.

A black peaked roof of the Wawona Hotel rose above the endless trees.


	65. Chapter 61

"I know you," Max said. "You're the Greenman."

He nodding. They were in the Greenman's cabin, deep in the woods. When he responded, he got up and walked into the small kitchen. A moment later there was the aroma of brewing tea. Lugh sat next to Alec and starts to question him on the relationship between him and Greenman.

"How do you know each other?"

"Before Negan, I was alone with my older sister for a while. We stayed in the woods, never trusted people, making ourselves assholes. When my sister died, I never contacted with any person. Then Greenman came to me." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "He took care of me, didn't speak to me, just sat there until I let myself go. He told me to never distant myself, and be who I was. And I did. Meeting another asshole like me, Negan, become a group, then meet you guys, befriend Mal, and fell in love with you, Lugh."

Sam sat curled into a large rattan chair, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around his shins. He was tired from walking so long and his mind kept racing on many things that happened.

Now they were in his house to rest. It was filled with plants of all kinds. They hung in baskets from the ceiling and stood in pots along the walls. Boxes of them hung on both sides of the open windows. Birds sang and chattered in the trees outside, and a squirrel came in and sat eating nuts from the bowl on the table. The Greenman did not chase it away.

A large cat came through the kitchen window, cast a wary eye at Sam, then a longer look at the squirrel, but strolled across the room toward Sam. For a moment it peered up at him with luminous eyes. Then it hopped up into his chair and rubbed itself against him, its purr louder than the larks in the trees. Sam unwrapped his arms and the cat stood on its back legs, resting its front paws on his knee, leaning its face toward his. He gathered the cat up in his arms and held it to his chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

The cat meowed softly and continued to purr. "The cat likes you." Said Vix, sitting across from him.

"I guess," he scratched behind it's ear, earning a deeper purr. "I'm so stupid to let Benny out here."

"Benny chose himself to do this."

"He can be stupid, too." His words were quick, and he stopped and shook his head again. "In town... Benny is smart. He know science and books and stars and history. But out here... he isn't smart."

"Tell me why he isn't." Vix leaned on her forearms and regarded with a kindly smile.

He shrugged. "He never seen what I've had. Before... it was me and Mal, and others. We were a group of friends like you guys. I always hanged with Mal all the time. We knew the world because we are born in it. How it was. How to survive and fight. But after whatever happened out there, Mal changed and she never told me because I didn't understand. That was killing people."

He shook his head at the memory. "Everything then changed when Lucius destroyed the gates of the quarantine zones, and the Flyer Frontiers died, it was only me and Tom and everything else. I finally understood what she had gone through. I had to do everything for Tom when he was once badly hurt. And that scared me because I was alone. I lost people. Everyone did. Then we found Negan, and he took us to Fairview."

He clenched his fist, then added, "I disgusted the place. I felt like Mal; uncertain, a stranger, a person who hates that place because it wasn't well protected and people never been what her or I had gone through in such a young age. That's why I think Benny is stupid."

"Maybe," she conceded. "But people who were born before the Black Night, they had to adjust the world. Had to figure a way to find themselves to fight, survive, and to join groups- until five years after Flyer Frontiers came in. Someday, he'll come around."

Sam's face soften. "Does Mal... keep secrets?"

Her face screwed up, but then faded. "What do you mean?"

"I always look at her and see the contorted emotions clouding in her eyes. She's the type of girl to keep it to herself. One time when a couple of boys attacked me, she actually broke their fingers and never told us and even Tom about it. Mal doesn't like to let her emotions out."

"She's like Katniss in the Hunger Games," said Vix gently. "Never let her book open."

"Yeah. But with the incident with Perry, there's something that fueled her. I wish she had someone to let her speak out."

Vix licked her dry lips. "We may be friends, although she's not entirely telling everything about herself. All of us worry about her, we want to know badly. We won't, someday she will come to us in time and tell us. It's what friends do."

He smiled softly. "Yeah. At least she'd found you, guys."

He returned from the kitchen with steaming mugs that he placed on a small table. Then he went and loaded a wooden tray with seedcakes, homemade granola bars, and little pots of jelly and butter.

The Greenman drank his tea as the kids picked out the food. "If you need to use the bathroom, there's an outhouse behind that row of pines."

Alec gets up, slinging the crossbow. "Gonna check around the area."

"I'll come with you." Lugh joined and head outside with Sam, Vix, and the kids inside with the Greenman. Rin slumped in the corner, picking at her bandage. Johan slapped her hand away, putting a fresh bandage on her cheek.

"You're still pretty." The Greenman smiled. His face was heavily lined, but when he smiled, all those creases conspired to make him seem much both younger and timeless. "Scars make us strong and they are like a freckle. Part of your body, and never changes a thing. It's becoming you."

Rin squirmed in embarrassment. "Thanks. I guess I look like a badass."

"Swear!" Vix and Max cursed at Rin and she waved them off.

Killeen came up to look at a table. The table was covered with bowls or herbs and leaves, bunch of flowers, a small flower press, and piles of pinecones and other items that Killeen did not recognize. There were various tools around. Knives, a cheese grater, carving tools, seeing stuff, wire, and cutters.

The Greenman came beside him and was shelling nuts into a small wooden bowl. He paused and pushed a bowl of water, a bunch of flowers, and a pair of tweezers to within his reach.

"If you want to help," he said, "I'll tell you how."

Killeen looked at the flowers and then at him. He nodded.

"Use the tweezers to remove each petal and place it in the water. Let it float. Be careful not to get your skin oil on the petals. We want them pure. Once you fill the bowl, we'll cover it with cheesecloth and set it out in the sunshine for four hours. We have that much sun left. After that, we'll strain the water through a coffee filter into some jars. I'll add a little brandy, and we'll set it in my roof cellar."

"Why?"

"We're making flower essences. We'll add walnut and _Mimulus ringens_." He nodded to the thick bunch of purple flowers with yellow centers. "It's very rare for those to bloom this early. Usually don't see them until June or later, but we needed it now and nature provided. Funny... but I didn't know why I picked them yesterday. Now I understand."

"What is it for?"

"For courage, Killeen." He said.

Killeen picked up the tweezers and began pulling them off. He tore a few before he got the hang of it. "This is kinda cool." The Greenman watched, nodded, and picked up another walnut. "Who are you?" Max asked, sipping the tea. "I mean, not the man who knows Alec and your history. I mean really."

"Most of the time I'm nobody. When you live alone, you don't need a name. I don't need to tell you that." He said nothing, but he gave a tiny nod. "I used to be Gale Mensch- Ranger Gale to the tourists in Yosemite. That was before Black Night."

"When the world changed and everything went bad," Johan said, listening to the conversation.

"A lot of folks see it that way," said the Greenman, "but it was death that changed. People are still people. Some are good, some bad. Death changes, and we don't know what death really means anymore. Maybe that was the point. Maybe this is an object lesson about the arrogance of our assumptions. Hard to say. But the world? She didn't change. She healed. We stopped hurting her and she began to heal. You can see it all around. The whole world is a forest now. The air is fresher. More trees, more oxygen. Even in Yosemite the air was never this fresh."

"The dead-," Rin began.

"Are part of nature," he said.

"How do you know?" Killeen asked.

"Because they exist."

The Greenman stopped working, and Alec and Lugh came back. "The areas clear." Alec said and smiled at Greenman.

"It's good you found yourself."

"Shut up, old man."

He chuckled softly. "So, tell me, what choice are you going to make now." He said the same line to Alec when he found him and wanted to decided to be with people or alone.

"We're going now."

-:-:-:-:-

Lalon say huddled against the dirt wall. The two Infected were still with him. Silent and still, and yet the horror of what they represented was much worse than if they were still moaning and reaching for him.

Blood still seeped sluggishly from the bite on his shoulder. He had done nothing to dress the wound, not along Benny to dress it. He had not done anything at all except to lean his back against the wall and slide down to the floor. Above him the crowd was gone. Even the Burned Man was gone. There had been some rude jokes about him "winning and losing" at the same time; and one of the bettors had told him to "relax". The crowd had left laughing.

If he turned his head, Lalon could see the bite. His skin had been caught between the Runner's strong teeth, and as the creature had fallen away the pressure had popped the skin, leaving a ragged flap that had bled profusely at the first but had now almost stopped.

Lalon stared across the pit to the far wall. The hard-packed earth was cold and dark and lifeless. It seemed to present an eloquent window into his future. But he sees Benny not giving up, no matter how frightened he was by the horror that led them. He sees Benny picking the pipe up. He kept ordering Lalon to get up and use what time he had left to avenge his own death. To go down fighting.

This admired Lalon. To see Benny do a warrior's last stand, taking as many of his enemies with him as possible. But could Lalon do that?

But he knew that the Burned Man would never let him have that chance. Lalon knew that he would be left down here until he Turned or was made to fight one more time. Anger flared in his chest, and he hurled himself up and Benny passed the same cold rock he had.

"Warrior smart." Lalon said.

"Warrior smart."

Despite everything, despite a future as dark as that cold wall, he smiled.


	66. Chapter 62

Mal and Negan passed through the south entrance of Wyoming National Park and walked along a road that was virtually weed free- the first clear road they had ever seen for the miles they walked.

They encountered the first fence two miles up the road. It was a heavy chain-link affair similar to the one that surrounded Fairview, but it was hidden between two rows of thick evergreen hedges that acted as screens.

"Smart," said Mal.

A sign told them that the hotel was two miles along the road.

The road led through a complex network or trenches. There were rows of trip wires, and deadfall pits covered by camouflage screens. Directions for navigating the road safely were written on large wooden signs. Mal appreciated the strategy. Infected and Runners couldn't read. Instead of building defenses that were based on the way people protect towns and first against attacks, these were specifically designed against an unthinking and yet unrelenting enemy. Subterfuge was unnecessary. Mal and Negan peered into some of the trenches and saw heaps of old bones- eloquent proof that the defenses worked.

"The way this is laid out," Mal observed, "ten people could hold off a huge herd."

The winding path was lined with hundreds of trees, ancient oaks and many younger trees planted in the last decade or so to reduce visibility. In the distance they could see much larger trees rising above the forest- monstrous sequoias that towered more than 250 feet into the blue sky. Then the forest opened up and the big Wawona Hotel rose above them like a promise of warm beds, country breakfasts, civil conversations, and stout locks.

"Finally for fuck sakes!" Breathed Negan, exhausted.

The Wawona Hotel had a double row of verandas- one on the ground level at the top of a short floor. Whitewashed columns rose to the pitched roof, which was covered in grey shingles that, though weathered, looked to be in hold repair. Tall willows blocked most of the view of the upper floor and roofs and these softer trees lent the place a quiet and rustic appearance that was as calming in its way as were the fortifications and weapons. Because of the trees, all they could read of the hotel's name was a large black _W_ painted just below the edge of the roof.

Beside the hotel was a corral filled with horses, most of them standing with heads downs as they munched the green spring grass; a few stood by the rails, watching with brown-eyed curiosity. Beyond the corral stood more than two dozen armored trade wagons. In the distance, off behind the big building, were party sounds. Loud voices and laughter.

Mal stopped herself. This is her stop now, however she doubting herself. Maybe she could stay a little longer, take a rest and come with Negan to find Charlie. Then what? Will he let her do the honors to kill Charlie for the first time or he will bust his anger.

"Mal?" Negan's voice focused Mal to him.

"I-I... this is my stop."

His contorted to fury, worry, and displease. "I kept your promise. I fuckin' know that, Mal." Negan said, his voice steel. "Come on, Mal. I've got your back, you've got mine. Let's get out there and kick these fucksticks' asses right out of here."

"Please. I can't handle myself to wait more longer."

His deeps a loud exhale, gripping Ellie. "Just don't be a fucking badass that kills you."

She nods before she leans over to kiss him. The kiss was suppose to be a peck, and turned into a longing kiss. Their mouths meet so naturally that it's like they've done this a thousand times. It's an open-mouthed kiss from the very beginning, and Mal quickly realizes that he doesn't want to let go. She doesn't either. But she has too.

She's the first to move away, but reached her hand to his cheek, her thumbing grazing on his bottom lip. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You too."

She turned swiftly out of his grasp and head back into the weed roads. It pained her every step she took, feeling his radiated heat fading away. Mal turned to look back at Negan, standing there until she passed through the willows and can't see him any more.

She turned to look back at the hotel. The chilly wind was blowing through the weeping willows, lifting the leaves to reveal the upper story, and she could see the words that had been painted there. The black _W_ was no the first letter of Wawona Hotel. It was the first letter of "Welcome."

Mal's could feel her insides turn to icy mush, and stopped her tracks with terrifying clarity.

 **Welcome to KillGames**.

Mal stiffened in fear, and it took her less than a moment to shake off her terror and break into a furious run. She not far out, and Mal's gun was already out of her holster and in her hands. She hadn't really thought it has two bullets left, but she felt safer with it in her grip, heavy and solid and cool to the touch.

Negan-

No. No, she insisted, she couldn't let herself think like that, not now. For all she knew, he must of noticed and escaped.

She ran sixty yards from the front steps when she spots Negan on the ground. Two men were strangers with the hard faces of bounty hunters- one was a hulk of a white man with no neck and mean eyes, and it was Motor Hammer; the other was a brown-skinned brute with a flight of ravens tattooed across his face and down his throat- and the men beat Negan to the ground.

She fledged herself towards the fight, advancing to hurl herself at one of the brutes when she heard a sound behind her. A soft footfall, and she turned to see a man coming towards her on the grass verge behind them and slapped her so hard she fell in front of Negan.

"Mal!" Negan struggled against the strong hold of Hammer.

"Well, well, if this ain't cause to say hallelujah," said the man. He had eyes the color of deep ice, cold, and blue. As if conjured by the dark magic of the man's smile, a chilly wind whipped past them, rustling the leaves and sending the birds shrieking into the air.

Preacher Jack's pale eyes sparkled with pleasure, and when his lips writhed into their twitchy smile it revealed teeth stained with chewing tobacco and black coffee. "Now," he said softly, "how is it that I'm blessed with the company of two such fine people here on my own humble front lawn?"


	67. Chapter 63

"That's impossible! This place can't be KillGames!" Mal shouted.

"Nothing's impossible in this world of wonders, young Mal," said Preacher Jack with a soft chuckle. "You haven't been here for a long time, Negan. None of our fellowship need fear that dinner or his violent ways. A bright new day has dawned out here in the Lord's paradise."

Mal suddenly got up and flung herself under his legs but she was struck across the face with an open-handed slap that was so shockingly fast and hard that it spun her around and back to her hands and knees.

Negan cried out as he knee'd Hammer. His eyes bulged, and the man coughed and released his hold. Negan slammed him backward with a two-handed punch that sent him crashing into the black man. They both went down and tangled limbs and vile curses.

With a howl of rage, Negan whipped out Ellie and swung it with all his strength at Preacher Jack's grinning mouth.

It never connected.

Preacher Jack was old- in his sixties, with a face as lined as a map and a body as frail-looking as a stick bug- but he stepped into the blow and dodged the swing. Then Negan recovered to punch him, but failed at the capture.

"Surprise, surprise," whispered the preacher. With his free hand he punched Negan full in the face. Negan reeled back, bright blood spurting from his nose and lips. He then got kicked on the stomach and suddenly fell.

"Digger, Hammer- take their toys," said the preacher. The two men seethed for a moment, their hands opening and closing. "Don't make me repeat myself."

They shot frightened looks at the old man and immediately bent to strip Negan and Mal's weapons. Once stripped they brought them to their knees, kneeling upon the preacher.

He stood over them. "Oh, how strange the world must be go you young people. Strange, and wondrous and full of mysteries," he murmured. Weird shadows swirled in his pale eyes. "I know what questions must be screaming inside your heads right at this very moment, indeed I do."

Negan spat blood out of his mouth. "It's more saying I'm gonna shove a gun up your ass, you'll be screaming my fuckin' name before I fuck the holy fuck out of you before pulling the trigger."

Preacher takes Mal's machete and drove the tip into his cheek. "Such a mouth."

He drove the weapon into the soft ground and leaned towards Mal. "Now answer me this, what do you see in her? Is it the kindle of her fruit you want? So pure and fresh." He reached out and clamped her jaw. "She's not fresh, she had been taken. Tell me Negan, have you been blessed by her fruit?"

"Don't you fucking touch her, you fucking piece of shit-!" Negan was screaming.

He lets go of her face, brushing her jaw from his grip. He looks between Mal and Negan, and barks a laugh.

"Oh, do I see you care for this flower. You love her?" Preacher Jack quirks his head, his smiled growing brighter. "My, my. This is a surprise. I can see it, I mean, Charlie did once had a taste. She is... young. She will be blessed for the fruit and will open for The Lord."

"Fucking worthless piece of shit, you don't deserve to fucking live. _You don't ever fucking put your hands on her!_ "

"I won't pledge myself upon the wickedness of her sins. I'm a simple man."

"Why?" Mal demanded, snarling at him like a piece of meat, and not letting him touch her again this time. "Why KillGames?"

"When word came to me that Negan and this blonde girl had murdered Charlie Marion, well... I knew that The Lord was calling me to do other work."

"Charlie Pink-Shit was the murderer." Declared Negan. "He killed children and is a sick fucker."

Negan spat at him. Mal tensed, ready to throw herself between Negan and Preacher Jack's retaliation, but the preacher merely laughed and wiped the spittle from the lapels of his dusty black coat. He shook his head, and his smiles dimmed a little.

"Oh, you are stacking up sins in the storehouse of The Lord," he said softly. "You speak ill of Charlie, but he was a good man. Trusted by his men, good to his family, and a role model for everyone in these troubled, troubled times. Stupid and sinful people can't see past their own inadequacies to understand the difficult choices a man like Charlie has to make in order to protect what's his." He closed his eyes for a moment. "To know that the man who murdered him still walks this earth is like a splinter in my mind. You, my boy, are an evil man. You've been hounding the Marion family for years, making spurious claims, interfering with authorized trade, and now you're a bloody-handed murderer."

Negan shook his head at him. "At least I did the greater good, motherfucker." He whispered.

"Then you, Mal. How can Charlie be so blind to get kill by a weak, undefined whore. I can see why he chose you, how ripe you were. But it led him to his despair." Said the preacher. "Before Black Night, before I heard the calling of The Lord that directed me to my sacred purpose, I was a different man. More like Charlie and White Bear. You see, I was a solider once. A special operator, thought I don't suppose that label means anything to you. I served my country in black bag operations in Africa and Asia, in the Middle East and South America. We were the righteous ones, the hard ones. Heartbreakers and life takers." He sighed. "Then things got... complicated. Too many regulations imposed on the military. So me and a bunch of my brothers in arms went private. We became contractors."

"You mean mercenaries," sneered Negan.

"I'm not ashamed of that word. Mercs or contractors, it's all the same... we served the best interests of the American people. One way or t'other." Preacher Jack laughed again. "Surely you didn't think I learned to handle myself in Bible school, did you? No, and I'm not saying I was a saint because I was loyal to flag and country. Nope, I won't spit that lie into the wind. Truth to tell, I was a sinner back then. I'll admit it and testify my sins, and yet still on the side of the white hats. Still proud to be an American, no matter where I was or on what piece of backwater land I stood." He leaned closer to Mal. "Then came the Black Night. Ah... that was the miracle that opened the eyes of this poor sinner. The dead rise to claim the earth. Those who had been left to decay into dust rose instead and claimed dominion over the lands of the living. The Children of Lazarus rose, and in their purity they showed us the errors of our ways. Our sinfulness was revealed. That's when I changed my wicked ways and took to preaching from the Good Book."

Mal found her voice and very quietly asked, "If you're so holy, then explain KillGames. How's that part of God's plan?"

Preacher Jack shrugged. "This world may be paradise for the Children of Lazarus, but to snot-nosed little sinners like you... this world is hell. How's that for a cosmic paradox? Heaven and hell coexisting out here in the Ruins, and the two of 'em forming a brand-new Eden. The towns- why, you might consider them limbo, where souls are just waiting for judgement. As for KillGames... now it would be God's own truth to say that KillGames is purgatory. It's where you have a chance to expunge your sins."

"By fighting the dead in pits?"

Preacher Jack nodded. "When a person faces one of the Children, both are being tested for their worthiness. If the Child loses, then it has shown that God's power is alive within it, even though the vessel is dead... and the sinner himself gets elevated to a higher being as he joins the Children. If the sinner wins, then by God he's just shown that he is more righteous in the eyes of heaven, and by striking down one of the Children he had removed imperfection from the holy landscape."

 _What a bunch of shit_. Mal's inner voice yelled it, and she almost said it aloud, but she knew that those would be the last words she would speak. She wondered if the old man believed this or if it was some kind of crazy con game. Charlie had tried to justify his actions by saying that he's earned the right by helping to establish the trade routes that kept the towns alive. Was this more of the same kind of rationalization?

Then the preacher stepped back as a tall and more massive man than Charlie stepped towards them. The man's face was a ruin of melted flesh. One eye was a black pit, and the other as blue as lake water. He wore heavy cloak of white bearskin. Even thought Mal had never seen him before, she knew at once who this had to be. White Bear.

"So this is the legendary Negan and Charlie's little toy, Mal," said White Bear with a grin. "Well, I'll be a dancing duck if they ain't cute as puppies, the both of 'em."

The men chortled, and Preacher Jack smiled his ugly smile. "Figured you'd want to have a word with them before we get started," murmured the preacher.

"Oh yes indeed," said the big man. Beneath the clock of beat fit he wore hand-stitched leather pants and moccasins. His bare chest was marked with large burned patches too. He wore at least a dozen necklaces of oyster shells, beads, and feathers, and he had silver rings on every finger. He stood in the center of the room and exuded so much personal power that he stepped forward. "You two know who I am?"

"White fucking Bear," said Negan.

"That's right," said the big man, obviously pleased. "But so, you know who I am?"

"A racist big-nosed douche-bag."

"I am the spirit of the Ruins. I'm the old medicine reborn to save the world from itself. I'm the immortal White Bear, not in fire but born of fire." He glared at them for a moment, and then he cracked up laughing. The other men joined him, and the four of them howled at the joke neither Negan nor Mal understood or cared. Finally White Bear dabbed at a tear at the corner of his remaining eye. "Okay, okay... so that's the public relations line. That's what we tell the rubes to get them all excited. Works pretty well, too. Misinformation and disinformation make the wiped go round."

"What are you taking about?" Demanded Mal.

"Call it a campaign strategy," he replied. "You always need a good campaign strategy if you're running for office."

Mal narrowed her eyes. "Running for what office."

"Chief badass of the whole damn Ruins," supplied Motor Hammer.

"In so many words," agreed White Bear. "Y'see, Negan has a long time being in charge of the Ruins, almost controlling the Eleven Towns. Charlie was getting ready to do that, make a stand for the Tradepost and change it, but he was... um... reluctant to make his move with you, Negan, in the mix."

"Because he was a fucking coward of me!" Snapped Negan.

The smile flickered on White Bear's face. "Say another word about Charlie and I'll do your bitch ugly before I feed her to-"

"Bear," said Preacher Jack quietly. It was all he said, but it stopped White Bear for a moment. The big man nodded and took a breath.

"Charlie wasn't afraid of nobody on God's green earth. He was man of honor, and he showed respect."

"He didn't show respect. Sends kids into Infected pits, terrorized people, and tortured innocents."

"We're going to reclaim the Ruins, not you. As much of it as we can. We're moving the dead out of her. We'll herd them all-"

"Guide' them," corrected Preacher Jack.

"Okay, guide them out of these hills. We'll put people to work building new fence lines, but we'll do it at rivers and gorges and natural barriers. We'll take back farmable lands, we'll cattle again. Not just a few hundred head like they got in town- we'll run tens of thousands of heads. We'll plant machines again. Mills and factories, tractors and combines. Maybe some tanks, too, to keep everything working smooth."

"We have that all. Fuck, there are interesting ideas to have. However, who's going to do all that labor?" Asked Mal. "Many people, and what's in it. Nothing because it's slave labor. You herd those Infected's to people, not to push them back. If a person fails their job, they are fed to the Infected, just like that one body you did. You fed Brother David and Sister Shanti and Suzanne. You were the ones who swarmed us to Brother David's last night!"

"I did that," admitted Preacher Jack. "White Bear's scouts said that Negan was heading there, so I sent some of my lay-preachers out to gather some swarms. It was wonderful, wasn't it. I counted seven thousands of them." His smiling face turned dark. "And then you burned them."

 _Uh-oh_ , said Mal's inner voice. "You saw that, huh?" She asked, trying on a smile that didn't fit.

"I saw everything." Preacher Jack's eyes were filled with dangerous light.

"I was sitting very comfortably on a folding chair on top of the way station. A grand view to watch the Children of Lazarus come down the mountain slopes. It would have been a grand view to watch them drag you and Negan and Tom out of the station. I wanted to see them feast on your bones."

"You really blame me for defending myself?" Mal said, standing straight. "You claim Charlie to be a respectful man, and call me a whore. Well, I've seen Charlie and what he has done to me. He's wasn't respectful. He wasn't a warrior, he coward away from everything he was when he entered the Tradepost. He was powerless, used me for it but didn't get him anywhere. It led him to his death."

White Bear suddenly stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of Mal's tank top and with a flex of his huge biceps lifted her completely off the gravel. He breathed right into Mal's face. "You and Negan killed Charlie. I don't understand it, because Charlie was a powerful man and a great warrior, but somehow you blindsided him and you killed him. You blinded him from your vile beauty and your cunt. You and Negan!" He spat full in Mal's face. "You killed my brother."

Mal stared in absolute shock. "Y-You're Jim Marion..."

White Bear swung around and slammed Mal against the ground. Negan screamed and rushed the big man, but Digger and Motor Hammer each grabbed an arm and pulled him back.

He punched Mal and then picked her up to slam her again. Her shoulders and back crunched trough the rocks. "Negan destroyed our home. Both of you killed my brother!"

With that he flung Mal across so that she crashed into Negan and he catches her. Mal coughed and moaned softly. Blood trickled from her left ear.

White Bear stood above them, his chest heaving, his face alight with hatred. Worse still was the look on Preacher Jack's face. It was as if his features were dark from within; his eyes burned with fire and an absolute madness that was more frightening than anything Mal had ever seen. She and Negan huddled together and stared at the preacher as he stalked up and bent over them.

"You killed Charlie Marion." Whispered Preacher Jack. And then the man whispered four words that made the whole world spun into red lunacy.

"You killed my son."

The words hit Mal harder than the battering White Bear had given her.

"I could kill you quickly, save my soul from you both, but I won't yet. How would justice survive in the world if I let you go unpunished?" Said Preacher Jack icily. "How would that make the world right again?"

Negan suddenly laughed like a madman, and stared at Preacher Jack with a cold smile. "Well, I give you the fuckin' honor unroll for being the greatest father to your son. I understand where he got his sick, twisted rapist hate-on-women mind from now."

Mal tensed, waiting for them to hurt Negan, but then Preacher Jack straightened and turned away.

"Take them away."


	68. Chapter 64

Digger and Motor herded Mal and Negan into the hotel, guiding them with slaps and kicks. Preacher Jack walked behind them, humming to himself. Mal was sure it wasn't a hymn.

They entered the main lobby, which was piled high with crates of goods scavenged from local towns. Sturdy shelves had been erected on every inch of wall space, and these were crammed with canned goods, sacks of grain, jars of spices, and bottles of everything from extra-virgin olive oil to Kentucky whiskey. One wall had a rack of guns running from floor to ceiling: shotguns, rifles, automatic weapons, rocket launchers, and every kind of handgun. And there were barrels filled with bayonets, machetes, swords, spears, axes, and clubs. Against one wall were six crates labeled C4. Mal swallowed.

There were enough weapons to start a war... or to reclaim the wastelands from the living dead. Mal saw Negan staring longingly at the collection.

Digger noticed and slapped the back of his head. "Don't even think about it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," He said under his breath.

Mal ground her teeth and swore that she would make these men pay for ever hurting Negan.

They pushed Mal and Negan through the hotel and up several sets of stairs until they stood in the doorway of a dusty attic. The room was empty except for cobwebs.

"Make yourselves comfy," said Motor Hammer as he shoved them into the room. "Call room service if you want anything, lovebirds." The men were laughing as they slammed the door shut and locked it.

Mal pressed her ear to the door and listened until she couldn't hear their footfalls on the steps anymore. Then she tried the door handled. It jiggled, but the lock was tough and the door was too solid to kick open. With a sigh of resignation she turned to Negan.

"We'll get out of this," he promised.

She looked dazed and small in the dusty light. "How? Negan- they're going to put us in the Infected pits!"

"I know... but we're fighters. We're smart and strong, remember?"

Mal snorted, but shook her head.

They looked around. The room was completely empty. Bare floor, bare walls with cracked plaster that had crumbled in places to reveal the thin wooden bones of the walls, a light fixture that hasn't worked in fifteen years hanging from the ceiling, and a cracked window that looked out into the horse corral.

"Okay," Negan said, "so we're not big on shitload supplies." But when he looked at Mal, she was smiling. "What?"

She told him. Then he was smiling too.

-:-:-:-:-

Tom stood just inside the spill of shadows cast by the tall willows that bordered the old hotel. Anyone standing three feet away would not have seen him. He might have been a ghost, or a layer of the deepening twilight shadows. He was sure that Negan and Mal were being held inside and the RK's as well. After he'd left the dead bounty hunters, he had gone racing back to the way station, found it in ashes, then saw footprints leading toward Wawona. Mal and Negan's shoes, no doubt about it. And Preacher Jack's following them. Tom had raced along the path and only paused a moment when he saw that Preacher Jack's prints veered away from a straight pursuit and took a shortcut toward the hotel.

Tom had found the scene of slaughter by the barn, had read the tale in the scuff marks and knew that Dreaded Skillz and DJ Derby had been with Mal and Negan for a time. But he also saw that the two surfers had turned and gone back into the hills. Their path must have missed Tom's by no more than half a mile.

Now Tom was at KillGames, and now he knew the full horror of things. White Bear had taken over the old hotel and transformed it into a killing ground. There were single Infected pits all around the building, and a cluster of larger ones out back in an enclosure made from a line of trade wagons and a circus tent. There were dozens of guards and hundreds of people- traders and others- so Tom had backed away and now stood watching from the edge of the woods.

Preacher Jack was here. The footprints had led right to a spot where they had encountered Mal and Negan again. There were clear signs of a struggle and drops of blood. Tom's mind ground on itself, lashing him for not seeing this sooner.

The Marion clan was moving in because of Charlie's death. It was a double power vacuum, and White Bear was making his bid to fill it. Tom didn't yet know how Preacher Jack fit into this, but he and White Bear would make a formidable team. The people of Fairview were not going to do anything to stop it. Only the Saviors and plenty of bounty hunters would have to make a serious stand against White Bear.

Rage was building in his chest, and he could feel his body start to tremble. He wanted to scream. He needed to give a war cry, draw his guns, and go charging into the hotel and kill White Bear, Preacher Jack, and as many of their people as he could. That would feel good. It would feel right. It would also be suicide... and it probably wouldn't save Mal, Negan, or Lalon or Benny. Rage was sometimes a useful ally in the heat of a fight, but it was a trickster. It made everything seem possible.

He needed to go in there cold. So he closed his eyes, breathed in and out slowly, letting the rhythm vent the darker emotions from him. Guilt and rage, hatred and fear were pathways to weakness and clumsy choices. With each inhalation he made himself think of happier times, of things that had filled his heart with peace and hope and optimism. Mal and her future.

He stood in the shadows and found himself again. He found the Tom that he wanted and needed to be. He took another breath and held it for a long moment, then let it out slowly. He opened his eyes.

Tom checked his clips, rifle, and knives. If there had been anyone there to see his face, they would have seen a man at peace with himself and the world. And of they were wise, they would know that such a man was the most dangerous of all opponents- one who fights to preserve love rather than perpetuate hatred.

When he moved, he seemed to melt into darkness.

-:-:-:-:-

Lalon and Benny heard a scream. Not a warrior's cry. It had been high and wet and filled with pain; and it had ended abruptly. Laughter and shouts rose up immediately and washed the scream away. They knew what it meant. Someone else had been fighting Infected or a Runner, and had lost.

The thought threatened to take the strength out of his arms, but he set his jaw and held on. Literally held on. For he last two hours Benny had been using the black pipe club and Lalon with the heavy cold rock to chop divots out of the packed earth walls of the put. It was grueling work, and to do it they had to gouge divots deep enough for their feet so they could stand in them ad reach height to chop fresh holes. His muscles ached. Sweat poured down his body. His toes were numb with col from standing in the holes, and his arm trembled between each strike. Lalon was more in worse shape, but he was determined.

His determination never stopped Benny. Every time pain or exhaustion or fear tried to coax him down the wall and away from what he was doing, he held a picture in his mind. It wasn't a picture of himself fighting another Infected. It wasn't even a picture of running free from this place.

No, the picture he held in his mind was Lalon, right beside, that he wasn't bitten and was going to die. A fierce and funny boy.

If he was going to die, then he was going to die as a warrior. Lalon won't last long, but he'll remember the warrior Benny who fought his way out of KillGames and fought along side with him in the pits.

And maybe... just maybe... he could save some of the other kids trapped here in KillGames. Like Mal, Vix, Lugh, Lalon, Negan, Alec, and the Saviors had done last year.

He reached and slid his fingers into the hole he'd just chopped, and pulled. His muscles screamed at him, but his mind screamed back at them. The rim of the pit was only three feet above them now.

"One more hole to go, Lalon."

-:-:-:-:-

The door to the dusty room opened, and Calvin and few of the Calvary Boys came in. The boys looked at the wires that had been tore down from the ceiling fixture and at the hole in the wall, which was bigger than it had been and revealed broken laths. Piles of torn plaster and broken lath littered the floor by the wainscoting. Mal and Negan were covered with plaster dust. The boys cracked up laughing.

"What's you two morons try to do?" Asked Calvin between brays of laughter. "You've been doing some serious hanky panky here."

"Yeah," said Negan with a sneer. "Fucking like bunnies and I bet you're jealous that Charlie isn't around here to show you a good time."

Calvin growled, hitting Negan across the face with a backhand blow. Negan saw it coming and turned with it. It made it look like Negan took the blow and shook it off.

The Calvary Boys and Calvin exchanged a look. "You asshole."

"You make it out of the pits with a whole skin, you and I might have to go out behind the barn and dance a bit." Murmured Magnus. "Bet you ain't nearly as tough as you are, old man."

"You sure about that, son?" Negan smirked.

"So White Bear was way better than Charlie?" Mal intervened.

"He made good deals. He's making a community, gives us a good rations, and we are free to whatever we want. Kill people, like we did with Negan's men last year."

Mal narrowed her eyes towards skinny Ryes. "Not everyone."

Ryes chortled. "It's who I am, Mal. Born in Calvary and born of Calvary."

"Tell me Ryes, do you enjoy killing people?" Snapped Mal. "I remember you as a boy who tried to fit in, and these boys took you to the wrong. What happens if Marion, Preacher Jack, or your boys had enough of your weak, nubile form and throw you in the pits."

Ryes slowly whimpered, shunning his head down, shaking his head as if he doesn't want to hear any of it.

"Please, Ryes. Give me a chance to take you a better place. Please."

Then Ryes straightened and turned away. Calvin smirked devilishly at them.

"Well, there's your answer Mally," he said. "Take them to the pits."


	69. Part 5: Fun and Games

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~  
 _There were at least a_ ** _dozen Infected in there_** _. But that wasn't what made Mal slam to a halt and stare in abject terror._

_The thing that plunged the world into absolute_ **_nightmare_ ** _was the_ **_huge creature_ ** _that rose up before them in the dark. A great and terrible Runner. He was slim but massive. It wore a leather vest from which the tips of hundreds of sharp steel nails jutted out like terrible cactus. Iron bands studded with steel points circled its neck and wrists, and a_ **_skullcap_ ** _of gleaming steel covered its head and tapered down the neck to prevent injury to the brain stem. When it's lips curled back, Mal and Negan could see that someone- some madman- had files its teeth to razor spikes._

_Even all that, from its fearsome armament, was_ **_not the worst_ ** _thing about it. It was Mal freezing in terror and who spoke the word that made it all beyond horrifying._

_She spoke_ ** _its name_** _._  
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~


	70. Chapter 65

Lalon reached up for the edge of the pit. His legs trembled and threatened to collapse, his knees were like rubber, his muscle like jelly. People roared and applaud somewhere else, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before someone came back here.

He reached and reached, his fingers clawing the edges of the pit, but the dirt there was looser, the edges scalloped from shovel blades and weakness by the weight of people leaning over to look at the pit fights. He dug his fingernails into the dirt, scrabbling, sending showers of soil down onto his face. He sputtered and coughed and spit it out; he shook his head like a dog to get the dirt out of his eyes, and reached one hand to pull Benny up.

Then something closed around his wrist. It was sudden, immediate, and as hard as iron. And abruptly he- with holding Benny's hand- was being pulled out of the pit.

He opened his mouth to cry out and fight, but a second hand clamped down over his mouth.

Lalon and Benny are caught!


	71. Chapter 66

Vix, Sam, Max, Killeen, Johan, Rin, Lugh, and Alec crouched in the limb of a tree and stared at the starlit façade of KillGames. For two hours now they had watched people arriving on horseback and in armored trade wagons. Townsfolk and people who lived rough out in the Ruins. Coming for the games. Coming to wager on the lives and deaths of children in the Infected pits. All the way here Alec called upon the Saviors to coordinate them, but there was no response. They hoped to come across Tom, Negan, and Mal, but Sam found were their footprints... and later signs of a scuffle near the front of the hotel. It was certain they had been taken.

Back in the forest the Greenman had given Alec a map and pointed out the fastest way and led them to the edge of the field that ran along the road to Wawona, but he refused to go with them.

"There's going to be a fight," Alec said. "Won't you come with us?"

He smiled at him with eyes that seemed ancient and sad. "No. I'm done with fighting. It tore away too much of who I was. It took me a long time to find myself again. I made a choice never to fight again."

"But- we need you." Killeen pleaded.

"No, son, you need you. Your friends. If it's your choice to go and help your friends, then that is your choice. Not mine."

Then he gave a slight nod to Alec for curtesy and a warm smile to the rest of the group, and vanished into the woods. They stop watching the trembling leaves. Then they turned and began hunting along the trail to KillGames. The kids followed Alec's steps as they evaded a dozen guards and slipped past ditches and over fences an finally found the tree that overlooked the hotel. This was a different KillGames from the one where Vix, Lugh, and Alec had seen. Different, but still the same.

"Negan and Mal must be in there." Whispered Sam. "If the Saviors are coming, we don't know how long they'll come. We have to do something before their thrown to the pits."

"Us against a full army?" Rin said.

"But we're smart and we have enough girth to fight these people." Max explained. "But how can we get in?"

"Can't exactly knock on their doors." Said Lugh.

"Or sneak in. Too many guards around the perimeter." Alec pointed out.

Sam had a thought, and it burned in his mind. He smiled and told them, and they smiled back and climbed down from the tree.

-:-:-:-:-

The Calvary Boys walked Mal and Negan outside, which Negan almost attacked on Ryes holding Ellie in his hand, but the boys hold him back, and they exited the hotel. It was like stepping into a weird modern version of the ancient Roman circus. There had to be more than two hundred people gathered in the field behind the hotel. Bleachers made from planks and pipes had been erected, and these were completely packed by a laughing, yelling, jeering crowd. The scene was lit by dozens of torches set atop tall poles, and their light cast the whole scene into a fiery unreality, where every pair of eyes reflected flickering flames. The whole are was fenced in by three walls made of armored wagons that had been parked tightly together, and the front was the entire back wall of the Hotel Wawona. On the right-hand side, between sets of bleachers, was a huge circus tent whose flaps were closed. Guards stood in a long row in front of the flaps, and on the top of the tent, painted in huge red letters, was the word _BELIEVE_.

Mal saw that the amphitheater surrounded seven large pits dug into the bare earth. The crowd cheered and yelled and laughed and made obscene jokes as Mal and Negan were led to the edge of the first pit. The dozens of guards were armed with knives and swords and spears. No guns, Mal noticed, and she thought about that. Were they afraid of wild shots in so densely packed an area? Or was there some other concern?

"Where are all these people from?" Whispered Mal as she bent close to him. "Who are they?"

Negan shook his head. "People from other towns. Or settlements. Families of bounty hunters..." His voice trailed off as he realized a few of the faces in the crowd and Mal as well. Not bounty hunters, but people from Fairview! Not forty feet in front of them was a man that Mal forgets his name, who owned a stable near the reservoir, and over by the circus tent was Barbara Sultan and her husband. They were corn farmers.

When she looks at the woman named Mrs. Rosenbaum, who owned the feed and grain store on Main Street, the smile on her painted mouth flickered for a second; then the man next to her made a joke, and they both burst out laughing. It was madness. These weren't just strangers, these were people they knew. People they saw every day in Fairview. She wondered how they managed to come here. What excuses and lies had they told to hide the ugliness of their appetites?

"You sick motherfuckers!" Snarled Negan with incredible viciousness.

The buzz of the crowd suddenly changed as Preacher Jack and White Bear walked with their heads up, proud as kings, into the centre of the amphitheater. The audience erupted into thunderous applause. White Bear encouraged the applause with upward waves of his big arms.

Preacher Jack raises his arms and the crowd instantly fell silent. It was so quiet that Mal could hear the crackling of the torches and the popping of the canvas on the circus tent.

"My brothers and sisters," Preacher Jack began in a voice that was deep and strong, "thank you for coming here to share in this auspicious event on this glorious day. A day we will all remember for as long as God grants us breath. As the did in biblical times, we hold these games in celebration of an important event. We are about to begin writing a new chapter in the stories history of mankind. We will begin a new holy brook chronicling the foundation and consecration of a new Eden."

The crowd exchanged looks, surprised at what appeared to be a sermon and uncertain where it was going.

"I wanted to share this day, not only with my family and friends" - and here he gestured to White Bear and then to the audience- "but with my congregation as well."

A ripples of hushed conversation whisked through the crowd.

"I asked my congregants to join us in celebrating a new era of peace and fellowship as we poor sinners prove ourselves worthy to share in this paradise. Join me in welcoming the members of the First Church of the New Eden!"

The crowd began to applaud, and the guards by the tents turned and began pulling back the canvas flaps. When the crowd saw that there were hundreds of people sitting in tightly packed rows of gliding chairs, they applauded with greater enthusiasm, welcoming more folks to this party. Then one by one the people in the audience stopped applauding until there was only one person- a silly drink in the far corner- clapping; and them he, too, stopped. There was a long pause in which silence reigned over the entire amphitheater, and Mal stiffen beside Negan. Her own heart was hammering.

Suddenly a woman screamed, and the crowd surged to its feet. There was instant turmoil as people fought to move away from the congregation. The guards waded into the packed mass, shoving people, clubbing domes yelling at them. Preacher Jack still stood with his arms raised, a smile of great joy on his face.

Mal stared in total horror. There had to be five hundred folding chairs set in rows in the tents. Each chair was filled, but each congregant was lashed to the chair by strips of white cloth that were wrapped around their legs and chest. They all writhed and struggled against the bonds. Not just to escape... but to attack.

The entire congregation was Infected.

"Hol-ly shit!" Gasped Negan.

White Bear reached under his cloak of bearskin and brought out a pump shotgun that hung concealed on a sling. He pointed it at the sky and pulled the trigger. There was a huge _BOOM_!

Everyone froze.

"Sit down!" He roared, and racked the slide on the shotgun. There was another moment of silent indecision, and then the crowd obeyed. In the stillness of that moment they could see that the Infected's were unable to rise or attack. A few people crept back to their seats, then more, and within minutes the entire crowd was back in their places. Nobody was smiling except for Preacher Jack.

He raised his hands. "Be at peace! The Children of Lazarus are all bound... we are all safe from one another, and that is the way that harmony can grow."

The audience buzzed with troubled chatter, but gradually they all stopped talking to one another and looked at him.

"This is still a night of sport and celebration. This is what you came for!" The preacher half turned and pointed one hand down at the pits and the other at Mal and Negan.

The crowd stared for a moment longer, and then they roared with cheers and applause.

"Ah, shit," said Mal.

White Bear goosed the applause for a full minute and then gradually quieted everyone with downward waves of his hand. "In ancient times," he said in a voice every bit as loud and booming as his father's, "those who had committed terrible crimes would suffer public execution."

A ripple of applause.

"Or public humiliation."

Bigger applause.

"But we are a civilized people!"

Applause and expectant smiles. Everyone knew what was coming now; everyone was in on the joke.

"My father is a holy man, and he says that the world is both heaven and hell and KillGames is purgatory."

Someone in the back of the crowd actually yelled, "Hallelujah!"

Mal felt outrage bubbling in her chest. She was not the most devout churchgoer, but even she knew that this was no kind of religion. Preacher Jack might be crazy enough to believe some of this, but for White Bear it was all about manipulation.

White Bear roared, "So here in purgatory sinners get a chance at redemption. They get a chance to earn the right to be part of New Eden."

Someone- Mal thought it was a guard- began to chant of "New Eden!" And soon the whole crowd was shouting it out as if it was something they believed in already. _They're fucking sheep,_ Mal thought. _Just sheep._

Negan growled, laughing at the ridiculousness of these crowd of believing it all.

"So, tonight my father and I are going to set an example. We are making a new law, and we will be the first to abide by it!"

"Tell us, White Bear!" Someone shouted, and everyone clamored the same.

White Bear pointed to Mal and Negan. "We got two sinners here. Two murderers. They led an attack in the camp of Charlie Marion. You all knew Charlie, and you knew him as a good and decks man." If the applause was not as enthusiastic, Mal saw, it was at least very loud. "They murdered my brother. The blood of my brother is on their hands!"

The crowd booed and called for blood to pay for blood.

White Bear quieted the crowd once more. "But hear me- these are no longer Infected pits. It is forbidden to call them that ever again. These are the Pits of Judgement. Sinners go in there to face their crimes. Heaven itself decides the truth. If the accused is innocent, or if there is true repentance in his heart, then he will emerge unharmed from the pit. And if not..."

The crowd waited for it.

"... then the Children of Lazarus will make a sacrament of their flesh!"

The crowd went wild. Mal stared. Maybe some of them had started to believe this nonsense, or maybe it was all just a new game to them. Either way, they were totally sold on it.

White Bear, as grand a showman as his father, held one hand aloft so that the audience held their breath, and with the other he pointed at Mal and Negan. "It is time!" He proclaimed. "Cast them into the Pit of Judgement."

Mal's last thought before the Calvary Boys pushed her over the edge was, _I'm gonna kill you._

Then she and Negan were falling into darkness.


	72. Chapter 67

Lalon tried to fight the hands that pulled him from the pit, but his attacked bent close and in a fierce whisper said, "Lalon- it's me."

Lalon stopped struggling. The figure let go of him and moved into a patch of starlight.

"Tom!" Benny began to cry out, but Tom clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Shhhh!"

Benny nodded. "How'd you find us?" Lalon whispered.

Tom quickly explained how he'd left Mal and Negan back at the way station, and about his encounter with Sally Two-Knives.

The sounds of laughter and applause, the screams and jeers, were much louder. The noise was coming from behind the place, past the line of close-parked wagons. There were a few small Infected pits out here, but Tom suspected the real attraction was over there.

"Mal and Negan are here somewhere," Tom said, "and I have a bad feeling about where they are."

As if to counterpoint his comment, the crowd erupted into furious applause.

"What are we going to do?" Benny said.

"First things first," said Tom. You guys look pretty banged up. Are you all right?"

When Lalon took too long to answer Tom pulled him into a patch of light that was screened by hedges.

"Tell me," he ordered.

Lalon turned and showed him his shoulder. "I was bitten."

Tom closed his eyes for a moment and sagged back against the edge of the porch.

"In the pit. They made us fight. We won... both times, but I got bit."

"How long ago was this?"

"I don't know. Five, six hours. I can't really tell."

Tom gave him a puzzled frown. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got bit. Damn, everyone is going to be pissed at me."

"Have you been vomiting? Any double vision? Pain in your joints?"

"Just a little dizzy and nauseous."

Tom looked at the bite again. "You should be showing symptoms by now."

"It differs from everyone. Takes only a day or less than an hour."

Benny knew that was true. Some people got sick right away; others took as long as a day before they felt it. In the end it was going to be the same. The plague had a 100 percent infection rate. No one ever survived it.

From behind the building they could hear Preacher Jack making a speech.

"Have you seen other prisoners?" Asked Tom.

Benny shook his head. "No, but I heard people talking about them. There's supposed to be a bunch of other kids here. In the hotel, I think."

"Then that's where Mal and Negan will be. Preacher Jack took them."

Lalon touched Tom's arm. "There are things you bend to know. While we were still in the pit, I heard White Bear talking to someone. I'm pretty sure it was Preacher Jack. White Bear is Charlie's brother and he... he called Preacher Jack 'Dad.'"

Tom grabbed Lalon's wrist. "Preacher Jack is Charlie Pink-Eye's father?"

"I know... it's scary, but it make sense. Can't we had enough of the Marion's."

Benny looked to the west. "Tom, where's the Saviors? Alec, Lugh? Sam? Vix? Oh, God, the kids?"

Tom shook his head. "I don't know how far they are."

Benny licked his lips. "What do we do now?"

Tom handed him and Lalon a set of each a knife. "We go find Mal and Negan," he said.


	73. Chapter 68

Mal and Negan fell into darkness. Neither of them screamed. Mal was too furious, and Negan was beyond furious as ever. Mal waited for the crushing impact at the bottom of a long fall, but her feet struck something soft and yielded. She hit and bounced and spun, and only then did she crash to the dirt. Behind her she heard Negan rebound and then this down.

There was enough light to see, and as Mal sat up painfully she saw that below the hole was a sloppy stack of old mattresses, positioned to catch their fall and keep them from shattering their legs.

"Very considerate of them," Negan cursed.

"I don't think they care much about us."

"No, fucking really," replied Negan sarcastically.

"I mean," said Mal, "that it's probably not as much fun to watch cripples fighting Infected."

"Again... really?"

They got to their feet and looked around. No Infected and not much light. The pit wasn't circular, and they could make out tunnels leading off in six separate directions.

White Bear squatted on the edge of the pit, grinning in a way the made his burned face look like a monster out of a nightmare. "Here are the rules," he growled. "If you're paying attention, you might already have guessed that this ain't a straight pit-fight. There are tunnels and side passages and a few surprises cut every which way. Some of them are dead ends and I do mean 'dead'."

"Ha, fucking titty, ha," said Negan.

"You might also have guessed that you ain't alone down there."

Mal supplied a sarcasm. "Well, we figured that... these being Infected pits and all."

"Watch your mouth, whore," snapped White Bear.

"Don't you dare fucking say that, you piece of shit!" Negan growled at White Bear, and he laughed how the man is below his feet and can't reach him.

"Really," she said, and liked how it sounded. "What are you going to do? Beat us up and throw us in a pit full of the living dead?"

White Bear seemed to chewed on that and apparently decided that Mal had a point.

"You were starting to tell us about rules."

"Yes indeed, little cutie. My dad placed a church bell down there. It ain't easy to find, but it's there. Find it and ring it and you get a free ticket out of there."

"Until when?" Demanded Negan. "Until tomorrow's game? And then the next day and the next until we're dead?"

"Nope. This is a real deal, straight up and hand to God. You ring that bell and we pull you out of there and put you on the road. No weapons or rations or none of that stuff, but you walk free."

"I don't believe this shit." He murmured to Mal.

"I don't either, but we have to," Mal said quietly. "What's he got to lose? If we die, then Preacher Jack proves to the crowd that we're sinners. If we make it out, Preacher Jack and White Bear prove that their word is good. Either way they win."

Negan stepped closer and touched her cheek.

Then Mal gave him a fierce huge and he hugged as well, and in a tiny but strong whisper filled with enormous emotion and gratitude said, "we stick together and fight, Mal. I love you."

"Hey!" Yelled White Bear. "When you two lovebirds are done making out, can we get a move on? Lots of people paid good money for this."

Before Mal released Negan she whispered, "we can go this. Find the bell, get out."

"Let's show what we fuckin' got."

Preacher Jack leaned out over the edge, the smile on his face was truly vile. It was filled with everything polluted and corrupt and unnatural that could show through smiling lips and twinkling blue eyes. He stepped back, and other faces began filling the edge of the pit. Torches were placed in stands mounted on the rim, and their light turned the maze into a dim eternity of dirty yellow shadows.

Things moved down the twisted tunnels. Stiff figures shuffled toward them through the gloom, and then they heard the low, hungry moan of the living dead.

-:-:-:-:-

Benny stood in the shadows and watched Lalon and Tom walk onto the hotel porch. There were two guards there, both of them armed with shotguns. They stiffened as Tom mounted the steps. One guard gestured for him to stop on the top step.

"If you're here for the games," he began, "you need to go around-"

Those were his last words. Benny never saw Tom's hand move. All he saw was a flash of bright steel that sees to whip one way and then the other, and suddenly both men were falling away from Tom. Blood painted the wall and door of the old hotel.

It was the fastest thing Benny had ever witnessed, and a deep gut level he knew that it was necessary, but it was also wrong. These men were part of KillGames, they were forcing kids to fight in Infected pits, and yet their lives had ended in the blink of an eye.

Lalon turned as Benny crept up the porch steps. He looked sad. "Sorry you had to see that, Benny."

"Me too," said Benny sadly. "Guess we had no choice."

"Not if we want to save Mal and Negan." Tom said.

"This is war," said Benny. "And these people are monsters."

Tom put his hand on Benny's shoulder. "Listen to me. There are good people too. No matter how bad this gets, kiddo, never forget that. There are more good people than bad."

Benny said nothing. Lalon quietly opened the front door and stepped inside. And stopped dead. His eyes went wide, and when Benny and Tom followed him, he also stared. On one side of the room, weapons, ammunition, and explosives were stacked from floor to ceiling; on the other were hundreds of smaller, more well-used guns and rifles, each of them hanging on a nail driven into the wall. Small paper tags hung from each trigger guard.

"What is all this?" Asked Benny in a hushed voice.

Tom listened for sounds of other people, heard nothing. Then he touched the barrel of one of the new rifles. "Probably scavenged a military base.

Benny pointed to the older weapons. "And these?"

"They probably collect firearms from etching who comes to KillGames. They did that before. Keeps people from shooting each other over bets." He bent and read several of the small tags. "Damn."

"What's wrong?" Lalon said.

Tom held out one of the pistols. "Read the tag."

"Georgie Flax." Benny looked up, confused. "I don't understand. Mrs. Flax is my-"

"-math teacher. I know. There's a shotgun here with Aiden Flax's name on it. That's her husband."

"These people are from Fairview." Lalon gasped, disgusted at it.

"I doesn't make sense!" Said Benny. "They're regular people. Mrs. Flax doesn't come to places like this. She can't!"

"Why not? Benny... no matter how often you see someone, you can't very say that you really know them. Everyone has secrets, everyone had parts of themselves that they hide from the world."

"But Tom... Mrs. Flax? She's so... ordinary."

"Well, kiddo, it's not like people walk around with signs saying 'Hey, I'm actually a creep!'"

Benny kept shaking his head. "And I was running home to people like that?"

"Remember what I said. There are more good people than bad. Even so... you always have to pay attention."

Benny sighed. "I guess this shouldn't hit me so hard. After all Sam, me used to hang around Charlie and Motor Hammer all the time. We thought they were-"

"-cool. Yep, I know."

"Still. My math teacher? Jeez, so much for civilized behavior."

"Walls, towns, rules, and day-to-day life doesn't take us civilized, Benny. That's organization and ritual. Civilization lives in our hearts and heads or it doesn't exist at all."

Then Benny spotted something that made him yelp. He ran across the room to a big urn in which long-handled weapons stood like a bouquet of militant flowers. He slid two items from the urn: a machete and a colt.

Lalon took the colt and machete. "Son of a-"

They froze as they heard a sound from somewhere else in the hotel. A sharp cry. A child's yelp of pain.

Tom turned and looked at the board staircase.

They moved up to the stairs as quickly as they could, but the building was old and the stairs creaked. Luckily, the laughter from outside was so loud that most of the noise was hidden. However, when they were near the top step, one board creaked louder than all the others. The hallway was empty and poorly lit by lanterns set on shelves along the walls, with doors leading to rooms on both sides. One door stood ajar, and from that there was a sharp call.

"I'll be right back," said a man as he stepped into the hall. Benny estimated that he was at least twenty feet from where Tom and Lalon crouched on the top step. It seemed like a mile. The man looked up and down the hall and was starting to turn back to the room when he saw the figures in the shadows of the stairway.

"Hey," he said, his voice rising an octave in alarm. It was the last thing he said. Lalon surged forward, racing at full speed toward the man. His rush was so sudden that the tenets feet melted into nothing. Steel flashed and red sprayed and then the man was falling. Without a second's pause, Lalon kicked open the door and leaped into the room as Tom rushed in.

Benny was running now.

There were screams and the rasp of knives being drawing, then a single muffled gunshot. The bullet punched through the plaster wall a foot behind Benny, making him jump. He crouched low and peered inside the room. The sight was one that he knew he would never forget.

It was a big room, a suite. Along the far wall was an odd iron radiator, and through its metal structure the guards had run three lines of chains. The chains were connected to iron rings that were bolted and locked around the necks of at least forty children. The oldest was Benny's age, an First Nation girl with one eye puffed shut and a split lip. The youngest was no older than six. All of the kids were bruised, and each one looked absolutely terrified. A smoking pistol lay on the floor with a man's severed hand still attached to it.

The rest of the room was a slaughterhouse. Five men lay on the floor, or sprawled over furniture, or in a heap on the bed. One was on his feet. He held a machete in his hand but he was backing away from this man and teenager, these things that had burst into the room in a storm of death. The machete dropped to the floor as he brought his hands up in total surrender.

Benny stared at Tom and Lalon. Lalon pointed Mal's gun at the man. Tom looked as cold and calm as if he was watering his risen bushes or cutting a slice of pie, even though his face splashed with fresh blood.

"Is the hallway clear?" Tom asked in a disturbingly serene voice.

Benny stammered an affirmative.

Tom nodded. He extended his dagger toward the remaining guard. "Are there any other guards on this floor?"

"N-n-no! Two on the porch and us... I mean. God... don't kill me, please... I got kids of my own."

Tom stepped forward and touched the bloody danger tip to the guard's cheek. "Do your kids have to fight in the pits?" The curl of his lip was the only clue to the emotion he was keeping in check behind his bland face.

The man flicked a guilty look at the children huddled by the wall.

"These kids... I mean... hey, man, I was just doing what I was told. White Bear and his old man call the shots around here."

Tom flicked the blood off his dagger, careful not to let a single drop go anywhere near the kids, all of whom were locked into a moment of traumatized silence. He resheathed his dagger.

"Keys," Lalon said, cocking the hammer back to it's safety. The man carefully dug into his pocket and then gingerly held out a ring of keys. Lalon snatched them from him. "Benny, let's get them into the hall."

While Benny and Lalon rushed to free the captives, Tom walked forward, making the guard stumble backward until the man's back hit the wall. Tom stopped, his face an inch from the terrified guard's. "You know who I am?"

"Yes... oh God... please don't... I know who you are... don't..."

Tom bared his teeth. "Where's Mal?"


	74. Chapter 69

Negan pressed Mal back against the wall as the first of the dark shapes moved toward them. The pit they were in was thirty feet across, with large blank sections of wall interspersed with side tunnels. The torches were too high to reach.

"Mattress!" Mal blurted, and they rushed over to the stack of rotten old mattresses and began dragging them toward the tunnel with the Infecteds.

Mal squatted and upended one and used it to block them from view. "Might not stop them," she warned.

"It's better than nothing," he grunted as he dragged another one over and pulled it upright. There were only three mattresses, but they nicely blocked half the tunnels. "Maybe it'll confuse them, slow them down."

Mal jerked her head toward one of the open tunnels. There was no movement in that one, but torchlight spilled down from another opening around the far bend. Mal pulled Negan inside, and they peered up to see if White Bear or the crowd could see them. The crowd booed and yelled for the dead to go fetch their dinner.

"I think we're good," whispered Negan. Immediately he pulled out the tails of his shirt and reached inside his clothes. Mal did the same, and they knelt down and placed several hidden items on the ground. When the guard had locked them in the empty hotel room, they had though that the two were helpless; but both spent many years of never being helpless. Mal remembered the years with Tom teaching her that all weapons are made.

"They're fabricated from the things we find: wood, metal, rope, leather, stone," he once told her. "Nature always provides, but only a smart person can look at what circumstances offers and see the potential."

While waiting for White Bear to come and take them to the pits, Mal and Negan had looked at what the room had to offer: an old light fixture, crumbling plaster walls, dry laths, a window. Now on the ground in front of them they examined what circumstances had provided. They had several lengths of broken lath- thin, narrow strips of some straight-grained wood; several yards of copper-cored electrical wire; and long pieces of jagged window glass wrapped in torn strips from their shirts- steps whose absence was hidden by their pants. All their pockets were filled with plaster dust.

There was a loud moan from around the bend. One of the Infected had reached the end of the tunnel. The crowd began cheering. Mal hoped the wall of mattresses would confuse the Infected. Every second mattered to Mal and Negan.

"Fuck, hurry," breathed Negan.

They worked as fast as they could. They placed layers of jagged glass between strips of lath and used the wire to bind it in place. Mal wrapped the wire around and around as tightly as she could. While she did that, Negan used another piece of glass to slash strips from their pant legs and then poured the white plaster powder into punches made from those strips. When he was done, he and Mal swapped jobs. He took the make-shift glass-bladed hatchets and used more strips of their jeans to bind the laths from end to end, wrapping them the way an old weapons maker would wrap the haft of a war ax. Mal took the punches and tied loose knots in them and began stuffing them in her pockets.

There was a soft thud as one of the mattresses fell into the main pit. A second later a white hand grabbed the corner of the mattress wall, and then a lifeless face moved into view. Clouded eye and black mouthed, it moved past the temporary obstruction, then turned toward them and moaned. The sound was answered by other moans behind it.

Mal and Negan snatched up their weapons and began backing away. There was another chorus of moans. This time the sounds were behind them, coming from another tunnel. Mal turned sharply and saw three Infected stagger around the far bend, their dead faces painted yellow by torchlight.

Far above the crowd howled, and a commentator began calling out what was happening to those members of the crowd who couldn't see. "Look like we're coming up on round one, folks," he yelled in a fast-paced, high-pitched voice. "And oh! Here's a twist: somehow our two competitors have managed to sneak in some weapons."

There were eight Infected's shuffling through the main pit now, and more coming out of the side tunnel; but still only three in front of them blocking their easiest line of flight.

"Negan, let's try it." Mal said.

"Okay," he said. "Let's fucking roll!"

Hatchets in hand, they raced forward, screaming at the top of their lungs. There were two men and a woman in the first pack. The closet one was a wild-looking man wearing the bullet-pockets remains of a carpet coat. He bared his teeth and lunged at Mal, but just as the white hands were about to close on her, Mal jagged right, parrying the grab with her left hand; then with the hatchet at the base of the creature's skull. It was a good hit, solid hit, and the Infected pitched forward.

At the same time, Negan broke left from behind Mal and threw himself into a tight shoulder roll right under the reaching arms of the second Infected. He came straight up out of the roll, pivoted on the balls of his feet, and slashed his hatchet across the back of the Infected's knee. The withered tendon parted like bad string, and the Infected started to fall. Negan rammed it with his shoulder, and the creature crashed sideways into the third Infected so that the two of them fell.

"Go!" Mal yelled, grabbing the shoulder of his shirt and pulling him. One Infected was down for good, one was crippled, and one would be able to get back up; but the most important thing was that for a moment the three of them sprawled in the middle of the tunnel, creating a temporary roadblock.

Above them the commentator was fumbling to explain this to the crowd, as his words were met by a mixed chorus of boos and applause.

"Fuck you, psycho freaks!" Snarled Negan.

Mal saved her breath for running. They rounded the bend and skidded to a halt as two more Infecteds lumbered toward them. A side tunnel broke right, and Negan started to go that way, but Mal didn't like it. There was no light at all down there.

The closet Infected was an enormous fat man in the shreds of a blue hospital gown. He had almost no face left. Negan tried to dodge and kick, hoping to break the man's knee, but his foot rebounded from the fat skin. It swiped at him and he had to leap backward to keep from being caught. Mal tried the same kick attack and hit the knee, but the fat man's leg wouldn't break. As it wheeled on this new attacker, the second Infected- a prissy-looking woman wit grey hair in a bun and her intestines hanging out- threw herself in Negan.

"Shit!" Negan screamed and brought his feet up just in time, catching the Infected on the chest and in the gooey mass of its entrails. The Infected scrabbled at Negan's shirt with white fingers and kept darting forward to try to bite.

Mal was too busy to help. The fat Infected shambled toward her, it's bulk blocking the narrow tunnel. It pawed at her as Mal chopped at it with the hatchet, knocking bloodless chunks of flesh from its face and chest.

Then something dropped behind Mal, a thud made her quickly turn to see the familiar weapon; Ellie.

With a final scream of wild rage, Negan swung his hatchet and buried the long glass spike in the Infected's eye socket. The creature reeled back before Negan pushed it away as he went to grab his bat, and took a full on swing. The creature went sideways, slamming the smashed head against the wall and fell.

Mal stopped trying to get away and instead put one foot on the wall and used it to launch herself at the Infected, hitting it high on the chest and driving it backward with both hands. The Infected's heels hit the other Infected and he toppled backward, with Mal holding on its shirt all the way to the massive _thump_! The Infected never stopped grabbing for her, and the creature was immune to the shock of the impact beyond a shudder that ripples through its layers of dead fat. Mal hammered at it with the hatchet until she tore through the remaining tendons of the Infected's spine and the lower jaw simply fell off.

Mal gaped at the monster for a moment, them threw her weight sideways and went into a sloppy roll that nonetheless brought her to her feet. As she turned she saw Negan working with Ellie back and forth to another Infected. Then the two of them were running again.

The crowd was going crazy up there, but mostly applauding now. People threw stuff down at them- unshelled peanuts, cigarette butts, balled-up betting slips. White Bear was laughing with a deep-cheated rumble, thoroughly enjoying the show when he saw what Negan is holding. He stood up and barked at the crowd, screaming "who put that there!" And no one cared or didn't know where Negan got the bat, all they did was applauding for more. As they ran past another opening, Mal shot a quick look up and saw Preacher Jack. He did not know the man well enough to be able to read the subtleties of his expressions, but what Mal saw at that moment required no interpretation. It was a look of pure, malicious joy.

When they rounded the next bend, the corridor was a dead end that ran twenty feet into a blank wall.

There were at least a dozen Infecteds in there. But that wasn't what made Mal slam to a halt and stare in abject terror and the deepest part of her soul screamed in a halt.

The thing that plunged the world into absolute nightmare was the huge creature that rose before them in the dark. A great and terrible Runner. It was large and it wore a leather vest from which the tips of hundreds of sharp steel nails jutted out like a terrible cactus. Iron bands studded with steel points circled its neck and wrists, and a skullcap of gleaming steel covered its head and tapered down the neck to prevent any injury to the brain stem. When it's lips curled back, Mal and Negan could see that someone- some madman- had filed its teeth to razor spikes.

Even all that, from its fearsome armament, was not the worst thing about it. It was Mal who spoke the word that made it all beyond horrifying.

She spoke its name.

"Charlie..."


	75. Chapter 70

Outside the hotel...

The kids found a shed filled with old sporting equipment. Deflated balls, old fishing rods, Frusbees. Max called Alec, Lugh, Vix, and Sam, pointing at the junk... and everyone smiled.

 _Yes_ , he thought, _this is perfect._

-:-:-:-:-

Inside the hotel...

"Tom!" Benny called from the hallway. He and Lalon had come back from escorting all the captive children into another room.

"You have to stay with the kids," barked Tom.

"Um... the kids are fine. Really." Benny wore a quirky and bemused smile. "But... there's something else. You'd better come."

Tom turned from the guard. The man had collapsed into a weeping, cringing pipe, and looking at him disgusted Tom. He jabbed the guard with a toe. "Stay!"

The man nodded and held his hands up, palms out.

Tom crossed to the door and stepped out into the hall. His hands flashed toward his pistol, and a war cry almost tore itself from his throat. Then he froze in total shock.

The hall was full of people. All of them were heavily armed. Tom's mouth hung open. Two of the people reached out, one reached a hand out and gently pushed on Tom's chin to close his mouth.

"You're going to catch flies with that," said Sally Two-Knives with a wicked grin.

Tom looked around, seeing faces that could not be here. "I-"

"Let's just say we brought some company," said Bud, gesturing the Saviors and Bounty Hunters.

Farther down the hall, Dreaded Skillz and DJ Derby were removing the dog collars from the kids. They looked up and grinned.

"Hunter!" Said DJ Derby.

"Yo, brah!" Said Dreaded Skillz.

"How are you here? It's only the Saviors, Sally, and Queen Arnica?" Exclaimed Tom.

Sally and Bud filled him in on the discussion they'd had in the woods. "Queen Arnica started gathering everyone up," said Bud. "Not everyone is going to let the Saviors write the last chapter of White Bear, we want to make a memoir. We have the cavalry."

"Only downside," said Sally, "is that there are fifty of us and about four hundred of them. And I'm not going to be much good in a fight once I run out of bullets and the Saviors need it more."

Tom turned a smile. "Are you kidding? Didn't you guys see what was in the front room?"

Bashed Clay shook his head. "No, we climbed in through a ground-floor guest bedroom all ninja-like with some of the Saviors held back with their vehicles. Snuck up the back stairs."

"Then you may be the cavalry," said Tom, "but I'm Santa Claus. Let's go downstairs and open some presents."

"Who's Santa Claus?" Lalon questioned with a confused look.


	76. Chapter 71

Charlie Pink-Eye loomed in front of Mal and Negan. Six feet inches of him. One eye was a milky pink, the other one- once as blue as his father's- was black and dead. His skin, once the tan white, had turned the color of a mushroom; grey-white and blotches with fungus and decay. Flies buzzed around him, and maggots wriggled through flaps of his dead flesh. He snarled and took a lumbering step forward. And now Mal understood what she had seen out in the field by Fairview. It hasn't been Charlie leading an attack of Infected... Charlie had been a Runner himself, part of a swarm led there by Preacher Jack. Led there... and led away before Mal could ever seen him again. When Mal had seen Charlie smile, it wasn't a smile at all but the snarl of a hungry Runner.

It was grotesque. It was bad enough that Charlie had not fallen a thousand few to smash himself to ruin at the base of the mountain. It was worse still that he was still alive before Infected consumed him and become one of the monsters. What was far, far worse was that Charlie's own father and brother had kept him alive as a Runner, armored him like a gladiator, and put him down here in the shadows to be their pet monster. Their Angel of Death for a new and corrupt Eden. Even though Mal understood few of the mysteries of any religion, she knew with perfect clarity that this was a sin that could never be forgiven.

"Mal," whisper Mal, "run!"

But she did not run. She couldn't. She was rooted to the spot, staring at horror at the nightmare monster version of the thing that had abused her, torture her, and raped her.

"Charlie," Mal murmured again. This was what she feared. Charlie, alive or dead, but still moving through her world. Still hunting her. She knew the moment he saw him, he'll hunt her down and it would happen. This very thing.

When Negan had struck Charlie on the ridge and sent him tumbling into the darkness, Mal had not been a part of it. Charlie had overpowered her; and it was combination of luck and revenge that guided Negan's hand as he swung Ellie. Charlie had fallen, but they hasn't found his body. He was hit on the head and by the jaw, not a kill hit.

Charlie Pink-Eye took a lumbering step toward them. Negan snarled and pushed Mal back.

"Don't you fuckin' get closer, you rapist ugly son of a bitch." Negan swung the hatchet on his other hand, trying for a killing shot through the eye socket. Instead the glass blade dug into the front of Charlie's cheek, punching through the sinus. The Infecteds in the dead-end tunnel moaned with raw hunger and shuffled forward, but Charlie's massive body blocked the way. With a feral growl Charlie lashed out and knocked Negan sideways into the wall. The glass blade of the hatchet snapped, and the handle feel from Negan's fingers. The blow was so fast and strong. The Charlie Runner was too fast. And so powerful!

Negan slid to the floor. Charlie bent down, grabbed Negan's shirt, and pulled him off the floor. Razor teeth gleamed like daggers in the torchlight. As Charlie pulled him close, Negan could see the gleaming tips of the nails covered the monster's body like a porcupine. Negan raised a knee and managed to get the flat of his boot against the lower stomach- the only area not covered by the nail vest. He kicked out, trying to squirm out of the grip with leverage, aiming blows to dislocate the jaw or break the neck. He tried every trick of combat and swung his bat but nothing. The nail heads scratched him, and soon Negan was bleeding from a dozen shallow cuts. Then two dozen. Blood flew from the injuries, and though none of them were serious, the smell of fresh blood in the air seemed to drive Charlie and the other Infecteds wild. They snarled and moaned and bit the air.

Charlie's head darted forward, and his razor teeth bit down with devastating force- but not on Negan's flesh.

Suddenly Mal was there, squeezing in between Negan and Charlie, and she rammed her hatchet up into its mouth. The rows of files teeth chomped down on the weapon and crunched on glass and wood. Nail tips pressed into Mal's hands. The nails didn't punctured her, but made the hurt and are feeling to become broken.

Charlie flung Negan away and grabbed Mal instead. Negan crashed to the ground again. Pain exploded in his shoulder, numbing him all the way to his fingertips. The other Infected tried to reach past Charlie to get to Mal. Wax-white hands poked through the crooks of Charlie's elbows and reached over his shoulders and around his side, clawing at Mal's shirt and hair. In their attempts to grab her, they were also pulling her into the nail vest.

Negan hauled himself to his feet. He rushed to Mal and pounded his bat at the white hands and clobbering its head after. She sagged forward, but Charlie still had her.

Negan rammed the round end with the sharp mending up under Charlie's chin. He dove it with such force that it punched through into the Runner's and mouth and pinned his jaws shut. At least for the moment. Immediately, Mal brought her knees up and aimed her feet just below the nail best, then kicked out with all her force. They burst free from Charlie's grasp and fell backward as the Infecteds pushed forward to get past him.

"Dust!" Negan croaked, and Mal tore a pouch of plaster dust from her pocket and flung it at them. The dust exploded into a white cloud that swirled thickly around the Infected.

Mal didn't know if the powder would do anything more than distract them for a moment. They had thought to use it against the Calvary Boys, but for now it gave them a slender doorway of time. Negan grabbed Mal's wrists and hauled her forward, keeping his hands on her back as stumbled away from the Infected.

"Mal- are you okay?"

She gave him a wild-eyes stare. "I-I need to... kill him," she answered in a whisper.

"I know, baby girl," he said, though they both knew that it was virtually impossible, and it was suicide to try. "Come on, let's go."

During this brief but awful fight they had been only dimly aware of the shouts and laughter from above. There were plenty of boos now. Defeating Charlie, however briefly, seemed to have turned the crowd against them. That or maybe the sheep were too afraid of Preacher Jack and White Bear to show any other reaction.

White Bear bent down into one of the pit openings, grinning like a ghoul. "Run as fast as you want, but there's no way out."

Mal pivoted and flung one of the punches at him. White Bear got his hands up to block it, but the pouch flapped open and he was showered with white plaster dust. He reeled back, coughing and gagging and cursing. There was a quick ripple of surprised laughter, but it died down immediately as White Bear wheeled on Mal and Negan with a murderous glare.

They ran from under the pit opening, vanishing into the shadows. They headed Infected ahead of them, and they realized they were running back toward the main pit. They scrambled into a turn. Behind them Charlie Pink-Eye was shambling toward them, his jaw slacked open.

That left the dark side tunnel. "No lights," Mal said.

Negan looked up and down the corridor. "We have no choice. Stay close to me."

They ran into the darkness. Above them the crowd became suddenly silent.

"Jesus H. Christ," Negan panted. "What the fuck now?!"


	77. Chapter 72

Preacher Jack stood next to White Bear, both of them scowling down into the pits. "Which one of you Calvary Boys dropped the bat?"

The boys lowered their heads, none responded. Ryes was in the back and doing the same face since he was the one to drop the bat. He wanted Mal to live, but she's dead anyway. They all coward as Preacher Jack stayed still, waiting for some punishment before he sits down and let the boys off of their merry way.

As they went, Calvin pushes Ryes against one of the pitches. "You did it, didn't you?" He growled. He brought his forearm against his neck, pressuring it to cut his airflow.

"So what? They're gonna die anyway."

Calvin chuckled. "Got a soft for Mal, eh?" Then he slammed his head beside Ryes head, his thumb grazing over his left ear. "Just keep this a secret between us, ok."

Sitting beside White Bear, he scoffed. "This is taking too long," said the old man.

"They're pretty good," replied White Bear. "I mean, Negan is not kid, however, seeing him in action from all the stories of him, man. I'm actually starting to enjoy this."

Preacher Jack snarled, "They should be dead by now."

"Lighten up, Dad... Charlie's got their number. Those lovers are Happy Meals, you'll see."

Preacher Jack leaned closer still. "You listen to me, boy, if they find that bell and we have to let them go, then-"

White Bear laughed deep in his chest. "Dad, for a man of faith you could use some for your own kin. I got everything under control, and..."

His words trickled down and stopped as he realised that the crowd had suddenly fallen silent. The people weren't looking into the Pits of Judgement. They were staring in shock at the back of the hotel. Preacher Jack and White Bear whipped their heads around to see a figure standing on the porch. He had a pistol in his belt holster and a rifle sling over his back.

"Tom," murmured Preacher Jack; then he threw back his head and bellowed the name. It echoed all around the arena. "Tom!"

Beside him, White Bear grinned like a happy ghoul. He stepped forward and pitched his voice for all to hear. "Well, ain't this just a treat? Come to watch the fun and games, Tom?" He laughed, but only the guards and Calvary Boys laughed with him. The people in the bleachers shifted in shocked and uncomfortable silence. Preacher Jack held up his hand, and every face turned toward him.

"Why am I here?" Answered Tom with a faint smile. He spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear him. He held out a copy of the bounty hunter sheet and showed it to everyone. "It's pretty clear that you not also want Negan, but you wanted me here:"

"That's true enough," answered Preacher Jack. "You and your little pack of sinners and murderers."

"By that you mean Mal? And Negan, Vix, Lalon, Lugh, and the Saviors?"

"Sinners all." Preacher Jack nodded.

"Where are they, Marion?" Tom demanded.

"Oh," said Preacher Jack, not looking at the pits, "they're waiting for their chance at redemption."

Tom crumpled up the sheet and dropped it off the porch into the dust. "This is just between you and me. Leave them out of this."

The preacher spat on the ground. "This is between the Saviors and mine. Yes, you killed and destroyed the KillGames, but Negan killed two of my sons. Don't pretend you don't understand that, Tom. It was you who destroy a sanction. You and him owe me a blood debt."

Tom ignored the jeering catcalls of the guards and the nervous buzz of the crowd. He locked eyes with Preacher Jack. "Charlie dealt the cards, Marion, don't you pretend he didn't. He ran these hills like they were his personal kingdom, and he didn't care who got hurt as long as he got what he wanted. He was a parasite, a thief, a murderer, an abuser of children, and certainly a rapist to children."

"You don't dare-," began White Bear, but his father touched his arm.

"Let the man have his say. Then we'll see what justice wants from this moment."

As he said it, he let his eyes flick toward the pits.

-:-:-:-:-

Down below, completely hidden in the shadows, Mal and Negan stared upward as if they could see what was happening. The voices were muffled. Mal's heart beat like a drum, and in the dark Negan grabbed her hand to give it a powerful squeeze.

"Negan," Mal breathed, "is that Tom?"

-:-:-:-:-

Tom walked to the edge of the porch so everyone could see him. "Years ago Charlie was a founder in the Tradepost but he went with his thugs to raid Sunset Hollow. I marked the place as off-limits. Everyone respected that except Charlie. He never respected anything... but things didn't work out so well for him. I have him and his men a chance to walk away. They didn't take it. Later, when it was just Charlie kneeling in the dirt begging for his life, I let him live because he swore to me- swore to God above- that he'd change his ways, that he wouldn't do this sort of thing again. That he wouldn't hurt those women by sexually assaulting them and hurting people again. I let him live, Marion. I showed him mercy, but as soon as he slunk away he started back up worse than ever."

"I've heard that story before," said Preacher Jack. "It was a lie them and its a lie now. No one ever beat Charlie in a fair fight."

Tom ignored that. "Then last year Charlie tried to leg the Tradepost crumble as he opened a new KillGames. He took the Claimers in, and you know they are sinners, Marion's hated the Claimers, but Charlie insisted them as allies. And he wanted one person to be the first tribute. This girl was with him for many months, and he tortured her, assaulted her, raped her, and thrown her in the pits. Negan did the right thing to Charlie, and my only regret is that I want there to help him, and it wasn't from my own hand."

"Yes... that hell-spawn girl of yours, that devil's imp, managed some trickster ambush and killed my firstborn son."

The crowd buzz intensified. There were dozens of versions of battle at Charlie's camp, and small arguments broke out as facts and suppositions were thrown out.

White Bear spun around and roared, "SHUT UP!" His bellowed echoed off the walls of the Wawona Hotel. The crowd cowered into silence.

Preacher Jack took a threatening step toward Tom. "You had your day, such as it was. Now hear me on this, Tom. Your time is over. Your reign of corruption, bullying, terrorism, and murder is done. I call a blood debt on you and yours, and like a farmer who burns a whole field to kill an encroaching blight, I will burn the name of Negan and Tom from this world. Your sins against my family are uncountable, and so I curse you and yours for all generations." As he spat he turned in a slow circle to likewise address the shocked and silent crowd. "Anyone who stands with you falls with you. So say I and so say mine."

Silence owned the moment except for the constant low moans of the dead strapped to the chairs under the circus tent.

-:-:-:-:-

Down in the Pits of Judgement, Mal whispered, "What's happening?"

"The fuck I know," said Negan. "We have to let Tom know we're here! Hope the Saviors and Bounty Hunters found the place as well."

Behind them the shadows were filled with hungry moans.

"Don't make a sound," Mal whispered. Calling out to Tom was a good plan, but not at the moment. Not unless Tom was right there with a ladder ready to let them climb out, and from what Mal heard, that wasn't the case. If they called him now, it might a fatal distraction for Tom.

Mal and Negan felt their way along the walls of the tunnels. It was absolutely pitch black. Even the torchlight from the main corridor faded and died within a few yards. They fought to keep their breathing as silent as possible, listening for the scuff of a shuffling dead foot or the soft moan or hesitate shaky breathes of hunger. Except for the powder, they had no weapons left, and Charlie was still out there along with at least fifteen Infected. Maybe more. Time was running out.

-:-:-:-:-

Tom sighed, "I tried," he said, shaking his head. He reached over his shoulder and slowly few his rifle. All around the arena the guards, already alert, raised their weapons, edged forward, and pointed guns at Tom's heart and head. He ignored them as he straightened his arm and pointed the bore of the barrel at Preacher Jack and White Bear. Firelight gleamed along the smooth steel and sparkled on the wicked edge. "Hear me on this," he said, his voice clear and strong. "You've spoken your piece and you've laid your curse, Marion. Now hear mine. Not a curse... but a promise. I speak to everyone here, so listen to what I have to say." He paused and surveyed the crowd. "Walk away," he said. "Lay down your weapons, throw away your betting slips, and walk away. KillGames is closed. Walk away."

White Bear stared at him. "Says who?"

"Says the law."

"This is the Ruins! There is no law."

Tom's rifle pointed at him. His eyes were fixed on White Bear. "There is now."

Preacher Jack snorted. "You have no right. You have no power. The Marion clan is the only power in the Ruins now and forever."

"Actually, the Saviors, Tradepost, and the Eleven Towns have the power. Walk away," Tom said again, turning now to the crowd. "Last chance. Everyone here gets a pass if you walk away. Everyone except Preacher Jack and White Bear. To use their words: If you stand with them, you fall with them. Walk away."

"You're a fool and a madman," declared White Bear. "You come here alone and make some kind of brainless grandstand play." He gestured to Motor Hammer, his burly tall structure was ready to pounce on the small, slim Tom. "Take that stupid gun away from him and drag his ass over here."

Motor Hammer was the first one and racked the slide on his pump shotgun and grinned. "Absolutely, boss."

Tom lowered his rifle and raised his empty left hand, pointing his index finger like a gun at Motor Hammer. He raised his thumb as if it was a pistol's hammer.

"Last chance," he said to Hammer.

"You're fucking crazy, Fast Tommy," said Hammer. "You always were."

"Your call." Tom dropped his thumb and said, "Bang."

There was a sharp _crack_ and Hammer was plucked off the ground and flung backward. He landed on his back, gasping, eyes wide, blood pumping from a dime-size hole in the centre of his burly chest. Tom blew across the tip of his finger as if he had really shot the man. The crowd sat stunned, unsure how to even react. Even Preacher Jack and White Bear were frozen in place.

"I warned you," Tom said, his smile gone now, his voice suddenly harsh and bitter. "You should have listened."

And then the killing began.


	78. Chapter 73

"Mal!" Called Negan suddenly. He spoke in a whisper, but it seemed dangerously loud. "I think I found something."

"What is it?" She said, fumbling blindly in the dark to try and cross to her side of the tunnel. Then she heard him curse in revulsion at the same time that she caught the smell. The stink of rotting flesh. "Negan...?"

He pulled her down to where he knelt and pressed something hard and round into her hand. Mal knew at once what it was. A bone.

"God." Mal said, and almost dropped it. She felt around and discovered other bones. Bones that had been completely cleaned of flesh, and some that the Infected had not finished stripping. She felt the shape and length of the bone. A heavy thigh bone. About eighteen inches long, with bulged heads at both ends; one end much bigger where it hinged into the hip. She weighed it in her hand.

There was an awful sound behind them. They had made too much noise. The Infected were coming.

"Hurry!" Negan said, and they clattered among the bones and found another thigh bone for her and a pair of stout shinbones for Negan. The darkness was filled with moans and the shuffle of slow feet. Time was up.

"At least we'll have more to go out fighting," Mal said.

"Yeah, but don't give me a hero bullshit speech. I just wanna get out of this."

Even though he couldn't see it, Mal grinned in the dark. Crazy, loudmouth, brave, unpredictable, asshole but wonderful Negan. She likes him so much that she wanted to shout. So she did shout. She gave a huge, wild war whoop as she raised her grisly weapons and charged down the tunnel tower the living dead. Negan gave a grisly, low, ululating cry and followed her.

-:-:-:-:-

The arena guards bellowed in fury and raced toward Tom.

"NOW!" Bellowed Tom, and gunfire erupted from four windows in the hotel, and the front rank of guards went down in a bloody tangle. Hector Mexico leaned out of a second-floor window and lobbed a pair of fragmentation grenades into the stands. The crowd started to scatter, but some were too slow. The explosions were enormous. Then there was a chorus of screams from the guards over by the tent, and immediately the screams were drowned out by the moans of the living dead as dozen of Infected swarmed over them. The crowd did not immediately understand what was happening even as the dead shambled out into the arena; then they saw the two men in carpet coats and football helmets hacking and slashing at the cloth strips that held the Infected in their chairs. The men were laughing as they worked.

Then the back doors of the hotel burst open, and Basher Clay led the team of free and unaffiliated bounty hunters out into the fray. Conan Mike, Dianna LaRose and her twins sons, Vegas Delaney, the hulking Fluffy McTeague in his pink carpet coat, Basher Clay with his baseball bats, and all the rest.

Tom leaped from the porch and slammed into the stalled and shocked guards, his rifle mirror-bright for a moment longer- and then it was laced with gunpowder.

-:-:-:-:-

Sam stared in shock from the top of the left-hand bleachers.

Tom!

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Tom, against all odds, leading a charge of armed fighters against Preacher Jack and the crowds at KillGames. It was insane. It was impossible. And yet it was real.

He stared past the panicked spectators. He, Vix, and Lugh, Alec, and the kids had all the items the kids taken from the sports shed, along with a bucket of pitch and a lantern. Wasting no time, Rin and Johan used a fishing hook on a line as Alec and Vix snag a deflated soccer hall, dipped it in the pitch bucket, Lugh set it ablaze with the lantern, and hurled it far over the crowd. It splatted against the back of one of the guards, who was immediately wreathed in yellow and orange flames. The man's shrieks rose into the air louder than any other sound. Immediately the row of spectators in front of the group spun around, their faces showing a mixture of fear, shock, and anger.

Alec and Sam gave them a wicked smile as Max, Killeen, Johan, and Lugh pelted them with burning balls. The screams of the spectators drowned out those coming from below, and now the entire set of bleachers was in full panic. Was Lalon and Benny here too? He looked around but could not see them. Sam bared his teeth in a feral grin, lit a ball, and threw it.

-:-:-:-:-

Sally Two-Knives was in no condition for hand-to-hand combat, but she could pull a trigger. She stared down the barrel of an army sniper rifle, laid the crosshairs on one of the KillGames guards, a Calvary Boy, squeezed the trigger, and grinned like a harpy.

 _Crack_! The kick of the gun hurt her, but she took that pain and turned it to bitter ice inside her heart. Sally had lost her children to the Flyer Frontiers. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to her, and every night she dreamed about what it must have been like for April and Tony as the monsters came for them. The people here made the horrors of the zombies plague into a game. They forced children to fight for their lives. Children.

She squeezed the trigger again. _Crack_! There was no trace of remorse in her eyes. Not so much as a flicker. The heavy kick of the gun hurt, but she used that pain to fuel her rage. Sally found another target and fired. _Crack_. And another.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal and Negan crashed into the first of the Infected. It was too small to be Charlie Pink-Eye, which meant that it didn't have a nail vest or an armored skullcap. Mal rebounded from it and swung first one thigh bone and then the other at his own head height. There was a light _crack_ as the first club hit something- an outstretched hand, perhaps- and then a much heavier _CRACK_ as the second one slammed into something too solid to be a head. A shoulder? Mal raised both clubs and brought them down above the shoulder level, and there was a wet crunch. Then the Infected was falling, brushing past Mal as it collapsed.

"On your left," Negan said from that side, and she heard the whoosh and crunch of his bat. The mended chained bat met lifeless skin and shattered the undead bones beneath it. Fighting wild and blind, they pushed forward, taking turns to smash one-two, one-two, breaking arms and wrists and fingers in order to reach skulls and necks. Mal's arms ached, particularly her bruised left arm, but she kept going, kept swinging. Negan was growling like a hunting bear, grunting with each hit.

Them there was light! Not the reflected glow of the torches at the edges of the pit, but huge yellow light. A ball of fire came bounding into the tunnel. Literally a ball of fire. Mal saw that it was some old sports ball, a cricket ball or a softball, that burned with intense flames as it rolled. Mal could smell smoke and the stink of pitch.

The flames illuminated the T juncture of the tunnels, and Mal's heart sank as she knew that there were Infected in every direction. At least twenty of them, and five rows back on her left was the towering form of Charlie Pink-Eye.

A second flaming ball dropped through the ceiling twenty yards down, and it landed on the back of a Infected in a business suit. The creature caught fire almost at one.

Mal shot Negan a quick look. Was this some new twist on the game? Did Preacher Jack want to burn them or kill them with smoke if the Infected couldn't do the trick? Or was the Saviors and Tom trying to help in some way they didn't understand? Either way it didn't matter, there was no way to fight past all the dead who clogged the tunnels.

-:-:-:-:-

White Bear shoved his father out of the way as a Savior charged at him, firing shot after shot from a nine-millimeter pistol. A round plucked at the bearskin cloak, and White Bear grabbed a mortally wounded spectator and shoved him in the direction of the shooter. The Savior tried to dodge, but the startled spectator slammed into him and then both went down.

White Bear leaped over the dying man and landed hard atop the Savior. He grabbed the Savior's hair and chin and snapped his neck with a vicious twist. He was grinning as he heard the bones break.

-:-:-:-:-

Benny crouches inside the hotel, safe behind the bricks of the fear entrance foyer. Lalon stayed behind to protect Benny. He wanted to see Sam, Vix, the kids, and Mal emerge safe from the pits or whatever they were, but he had no desire at all to join this fight. He wanted to be back in Fairview, safe in. His room with his stacks of books. Or maybe fishing in the creek with Dylan.

There was a flash, and Benny watched as fireballs suddenly arced over the field and dropped into the sea of battle in the field. At first he was alarmed, thinking that this was another trick of White Bear; but then he saw the figure that rose above the rows of burning corpses at the top of the bleachers. A gorgeous, long-limbed, incredibly lovely girl who arched a bow and released arrows.

"Vix! It's Vix!" Lalon then turns to see Vix and smiled.

There was a sudden ripple of gunfire- the harsh chatter of an automatic rifle and the single pops of handguns- and then Benny and Lalon saw Vix spin away, the last arrow dropping from her hands as she plummeted limply away into the darkened.

Lalon screamed her name. "Vix!"

"No...," Benny whispered a moment later. They had just shot her. He had just watched her die. Benny grabbed his bokken, pushing Lalon his spear and both of them ran screaming into the madness.

-:-:-:-:-

Tom began shooting his way through the crowd toward White Bear. He wanted that man. And his psychotic father. Tom wanted to destroy the Marion plague for good. A man rushed at him with an ax, and suddenly the man was falling from Tom's two sudden fest, then falls, his face gone. Another man raised a pistol, the hand suddenly blew up amid a piercing shriek. Three Infected came at him- two shambling slowly and one crawling. Then they were gone, heads blown off. Bullet after bullet it made a path for him and nothing could stand before him.

-:-:-:-:-

Four guards rushed up to shield Preacher Jack with their own bodies, and in a tight knot they team from the center of the arena to the protection of a far corner. There was a crack, and one of the guards fell, half his face shot away. "Go... GO!" Growled Preacher Jack, and the others did not hesitate or falter. Except the Calvary Boys who stayed behind and defend Preacher Jack.

Preacher Jack breathed in and out through his nose like a furious dragon. He was seeing everything he and his sons had built being torn down- again and again. By the Saviors and Tom- again!

He wanted Tom, Negan dead so badly it was like acid in his throat. Preacher Jack grabbed the shoulder of Calvin and spun him toward the aluminum siding that covered the wagon.

"Tear this off," he ordered.

"You can't. It'll be a kill zone, boss." Calvin pleaded before Preacher Jack backhanded across his jaw. The boys rushed in for Calvin.

"Do it now!" He barked.

Calvin shook his head. "No. My boys don't deserve to die like this."

Then one of the guards set to work to open a doorway out of the kill zone.

"You're gonna kill us all." Magnus said. Then the boys went off of their own, fighting their way through the field.

Preacher Jack growled, his eyes blood shot, tempting for any blood to cross his path.

-:-:-:-:-

It was madness. Infected staggered out from the circus tent. They had no mind, no loyalties, no ability to discern Preacher Jack's enemies from his allies. They attacked everyone. Dreaded Skillz and DJ Derby, both of them drenched in the lay of their personal stock of cadaverine, cut the dead free- all of them, Preacher Jack's entire congregation.

As the Infected shamble out into the arena, DJ Derby wiped sweat out of his eyes. "Dude, that old preacher's gonna be piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiised."

"Totally, brah," agreed Dreaded Skillz. He bent and picked up two objects Tom give him. A machete and a colt python pistol. "Let's boogie!"

They ran toward the pits.

-:-:-:-:-

As they ran, Lalon struck and bashed and broke, even big guards fell to Benny's assault and Lalon finished it with a death kill. Before that moment, before Vix fell, Lalon knew Benny had never hurt another person or raised his hand in anger to anyone but a Infected. Now he saw Benny swung his sword. He wondered why Benny would do it. Lalon didn't care. He was already bitten. But he's doing it for his best friend Vix. So Lalon ran forward into his last moment, accepting death because it had already accepted him, wanting to follow Vix down into the darkness.

-:-:-:-:-

On the other side of the hotel, Carrie Singleton and Foxhound Jeffries, respectively the youngest and the older of the bounty hunters who had come with Sally and Queen Arnica, led a strong of children into the woods at a fast run. Carrie had a crossbow and picked out a path that made maximum use of the trees and hedges to hide their escape. Foxhound had cross-belts of throwing knives. Once upon a time he had been a circus performer, a knife thrower who could put a blade through a playing card tossed into the air. Twice guards tried to stop them; each time they learned the error of that choice.

-:-:-:-:-

"What's going on up there?" Mal demanded. Everything above them was a single wave of confused noise, shrieks and gunfire and a clash of steel on steel.

Before Negan could say anything there was a different cry- a weird whoop of what sounded like pure joy- and then a figure dropped down through the pit opening. Tall, thin, wearing a football helmet and a carpet coat covered in pieces of license plates. He landed feet first on the shoulders of a Infected, and the impact snapped the creature almost in two. He clutched three items in his hands: a spear that was almost identical to Lalon's, a machete and a colt python. The man pivoted and grinned at Mal.

"Hey! Little Savior dudes!" Shouted DJ Derby.

"How...?" Demanded Mal.

"Butter my ass and fuck me sideways." Negan smiled.

Dreaded Skillz tossed the weapons to Mal. She dropped the thigh bone and caught it.

"Surf's up!" Yelled the bounty hunter as he swung his broad-bladed spear overt their heads. He spun in place like a dancer, and suddenly two Infected were falling sideways while their heads fell in the opposite direction.

-:-:-:-:-

The kids, Lugh, and Alec went as Vix stayed behind. They caught up with the bounty hunters. Queen Arnica and her friends, Vegas Delaney and Little Bigg, trade guards from Haven.

"Thank heavens you're alright!" Called Queen Arnica as she sliced her sword through a mushed head of an Infected.

"What we have?" Asked Alec.

"The Saviors took the left of the hotel, me, Basher Clay and the others are here with us. I'm glad on your bravery and graffitied led many knights upon this battle. Come with me. Vegas, Bigg, find that Preacher." She pointed and they saw Preacher Jack and the guards go running for cover behind the corner of the bleachers.

"Let's get that son of a hound," grumbled Bigg.

"Go for it," agreed Delaney.

The kids look at the cool bounty hunters they seen in their Famous Infected cards, now in front of them. The bounty hunters ran a zigzag across the field, smashing Infected out of the way and shoving panicked spectators into the open pits. It was an awesome experience for the kids. Then they get their weapons to fight alongside the fight.

Delaney fired a Winchester rifle from the hip, and Little swung an old-fashioned cavalry saber he'd long ago scavenged from a museum. Guards and spectators fell before them. Preacher Jack's two remaining guards rushed them. Vegas Delaney missed with his last shot and broke the rifle over one guard's head. The second guard snatched up a pitchfork and ran at Little Bigg, but Little parties the thrust and ran the man through.

That left Preacher Jack stuck in the corner with the two trade guards grinning at him.

"Now ain't this a pickle?" Asked Preacher Jack mildly. He should have been cowering. He should have been looking desperately for a way out. He was fifteen years older than these men, and where they were packed with muscle, he was a stick figure.

"Call off your goons, old man," said Vegas Delaney, "and you might walk out of this with a whole skin."

"Well," said Little Bigg as he pulled his saber free, "I wouldn't say a whole skin."

Preacher Jack's lips twitched and writhed.

"Glad you think this is funny," said Delaney, "'cause we're gonna-"

Preacher Jack kicked Delaney under the kneecap and simultaneously chopped him across the throat with the stiffened edge of his head. There was a sound like an eggshell cracking and Delaney was backpedaling, fingers clawing at his throat as he tried to drag in air. His face turned red and then purple and he fell.

Little Bigg wasted no time gaping. He slashed a killing blow at Preacher Jack, but the old man leaped forward inside the swing. He head-butted Little, punched him in the chest and bicep, and snatched the saber out of his hand. There was a flash of silver and then Little Bigg was falling, his eyes wide with total incomprehension. It was all over in three seconds.

"Amateurs," sneered Preacher Jack. He laid the saber within easy reach on the bleachers and set to work pulling the aluminum siding.

-:-:-:-:-

Mal and Negan fought back-to-back, swinging their weapons at legs and necks and heads. Dreaded Skillz worked the other tunnel, and despite the young bounty hunter's laid-back persona, he fought with the speed and precision of an experience killer. He shattered bone with the reinforced butt of the spear and cut off hands and heads with the blade.

The burning Infected had crumpled to the ground, but not before two others bumped into it and caught fire. Heat and smoke were becoming a real problem.

"We have to get out of here!" Mal yelled, then broke into a fit of coughing.

"Waiting for a ride," Dreaded Skillz shouted back.

"What?"

As if in answer, a length of knotted rope flopped over the edge of the pit, and DJ Derby poked his head in. "Um... dudes? Stop screwing around. It's getting gnarly out here." Then he was gone; a second later someone screamed, and one of White Bear's guards dropped boneless lot into the pit.

"You climb," Dreaded Skillz yelled. "I'll hold 'em off!"

Negan backed away from the press of Infected. There were four of them between them and Charlie. "Mal, c'mon!"

She half turned to look at the rope, but she shook her head. She couldn't get up, Charlie is right there and she needs to do it. With renewed fury she wheeled back and kept hammering at the Infected.

"What the fuckity fuck are you doing?" Negan demanded, but then he understood. "God! Mal- don't!"

Mal ignored Negan and rammed a Infected in the throat and knocked it down with a foot-sweep.

"Hey!" Growled Dreaded Skillz. "The rope... not a freakin' request here! What the hell?" He demanded as Negan flung the rope and bashed his way through Infected to find her.

Mal was still cutting her way toward Charlie. Four Infected stood in her way now, and Charlie was clawing at them to get to her. Yeah, come and get me you fucker.

Mal swung her machete like a baseball bat and hit the Infected across the face. The blow snapped its head back, and the creature fell against Charlie with such force that its head and back struck the vest of nails and drove Charlie back a full step.

She finished another Infected with the same ruthless precision. Her face flashed with exertion and in pain from her broke hands but full in rage. Charlie lumbered forward, his white hands barely two yards of Mal.

The remaining Infected was nearly as tall as Charlie but only half as wide. He had a voice like a quiet person, but when he snarled, his jagged yellow teeth said all that needed to be said. She swung. The blade hit the man on the crown of the head, and the Infected instantly collapsed to its knees.

Then she finally stood still, in a heartbreaking and terrifying way. Mal stood in front of Charlie Pink-Eye. He was six and a half feet tall; she was only five two. He weighed two hundred and sixty pounds; she was less than a third of that. He was covered in spikes and armor, and he wore an invulnerability to pain that was a dark gift of the Infected plague; Mal wore tank top and jeans and did not have anything to protect her.

Her body trembled at the memories him, all of what he had done to change her into the thing she is; weak, uncleaned, and cowering upon him. She finally had the chance to show him what she'd gone through.

Her machete snapped out and slammed Charlie's hands aside. Finger bones cracked and twisted out of joint. Without pausing, Mal shifted and swung the blade around and down and cracked it across Charlie's left knee, and the impact knocked sweat from her face and arms. Plaster powder erupted from her pockets and filled the corridor with a pall like a graveyard must. Charlie charged at her, but his knee buckled and his leg crumpled sideways and crashed down onto the shattered knee. Mal's machete swept through the cloud of powder, a ghostly image that was strangely beautiful. The tapered blade caught Charlie across the side of the mouth so hard that broken fragments of teeth, destroying his jaw and shattering the last of his razor-toothed grin.

Still the Runner reached for her. Crippled and with shattered bones, it could still drag her down and take a hold of her.

Mal stepped backward with the delicate grace of a dancer so that Charlie's reaching hand lunges too far and he fell forward onto its face. Mal kicked at the steel helmet once, twice, and then it went skittering off into the dark.

"...T-This is for everything you fucking done to me, you sick son of a bitch." She whispered and brought the machete up and down with every ounce of strength and hatred that she owned. The blade struck the base of Charlie's skull- and both blade and bones shattered. The big man, the man nothing more than a sick twisted rapidly, the monster of all her nightmares, collapsed down and lay utterly still.

Negan caught up Mal, then paused, staring at the damage. Staring at Mal.

She looked down at what she had done, and at what it meant... and suddenly her face screwed up and she began to cry. Negan sauntered to her, grabbed her, and held her, and she clung to him. Her tears were like boiling water on the side of Negan's shirt. The fires of madness that had burned in her eyes for so long... flickered once more and went out, and her face wrinkled into a mask of bottomless pain and the release of freedom.

"I killed him." She sobbed. "It's over."

"Yes, you did." He murmured into the tangled blonde of her hair. "You killed him once and for all."

Negan looked over to see what was happening with Dreaded Skillz, but as he looked up he saw DJ Derby leaning into the pit again. "Dudes? If you're done goofing off down there, we could use a little help here."

He wondered for a moment if Mal would object to being kissed with bloody lips that was suddenly broke and is bleeding a bit, if she'd reel back and wipe at her mouth. But Mal- fucking _Mal_ \- just kissed him back tenderly, tongue swiping over the cut. When she pulled back, there was a smudge of red on her lips, and Negan swayed forward, wiping it away with his thumb.

His breath caught when Mal took his thumb between her lips, licking him clean. In any other context, it would have been a deeply erotic gesture, and Negan probably would have found himself needing to adjust himself in his pants. But now- he couldn't help but read it as Mal understanding the point of the initial bloody kiss.

_I am yours, my blood is yours, my heart is yours. I would bleed for you, and you would make it worth it, every time._

"Come on," Mal's voice broke through her thoughts. "Let's go."


	79. Chapter 74

Dreaded Skillz held the Infected off as Mal and Negan climbed out of the pit. Dreaded Skillz came up after them. Mal and Negan stared around them at the absolute carnage. Scores of people lay dead. Hundreds of Infected filled the arena, and hundreds of people fought them and fought one another.

"Where's Tom? The Saviors? God, where are the kids?" Yelled Negan.

Mal shook her head. "Please, let them be safe."

Then Mal saw something that twisted the mind into a weird new shape. She suddenly recognized some of the fighters. Not the ones attacking her, but the people fighting White Bear's men. These were faces she knew from Famous Infected Cards. It was a surreal moment.

Basher Clay had a baseball bat in each hand and was using them to block from entering the hotel which was the only exit, unless people wanted to jump from the top of the bleachers, and that was a forty-foot drop. A dozen yards away Hector McGinnis stood on the top of one set of bleachers, firing blast after blast from his shotgun into anyone who came at him. He surrounded by heaps of the dead. DJ Derby now guarded the other door, and his double-bladed ax was painted bright red with blood. Others from the Famous Infected Cards were peppered throughout the battle with the Saviors at their sides.

White Bear's guards, the ones who still had guns, kept trying to shoot their way into the hotel, but there were sharp cracks from one of the upper hotel windows, and one by one the armed guards pitched backward, dead before they hit the ground. Mal craned her neck to see who was going and had a brief glimpse of the Mohawk and intense face of Sally-Two Knives peering along the barrel of a high-powered sniper rifle.

"MAL!" Mal whirled to see a wave of armed Saviors with Queen Arnica. They were armed with guns, spears and swords and knives and axes. Mal saw the kids: Max, Killeen, Johan, and Rin. And she saw their smiles.

Mal had seen the kids fight before, but it was mostly the living dead, not a battle. Their bodies were a blur of movement. As a man with a reaper's scythe came at Lugh, Killeen lunged in and down and his spear whipped a silver line across the man's mid-section. Without even watching to see the effect, Killeen rose and thrust and cut through the man's throat. A burly bounty hunter ran at him with two yard-long blades, but Johan darted forward between Killeen and the weapon, and rose now and released her notch. The arrow was fast and elegant into the man's chest. Rin jumped on top of a bounty hunter, her blade rose through chest and chin and skull as Max covered her with his pistol, bullet after bullet.

With Lugh by their side, he moved like a dancer, seeming to slim along the surface of the ground, turning gracefully to evade, using each ten to put incredible power into his ax and cuts. It was ugly and beautiful at the same time, a ballet of destruction that pitted Lugh's lifetime of dedication to ax-play against brute strength and seemingly overwhelming odds. It seemed the group; the kids, Lugh, Alec, and the rest of the people were building around themselves a castle of corpses.

Then a shout tore Mal away from the scene. She turned to see Heap, a Calvary Boy, charging toward her, but then a figure stepped into her path. Sam grabbed Heap by the throat and belt and heaved him all the way and threw him into a knot of the living dead. The big thug was instantly swamped by white hands and yellow teeth.

"Enjoying this?" Mal said to Sam.

He gave Mal and Negan a charming smile. "Yep, I saved you, my princess."

Then Negan cursed and she whirled to where they saw Preacher Jack pulling off aluminum siding on one of the wagons. He was seconds away from escaping. Without even thinking what they were doing, Mal and Negan launched themselves that way. Negan held his bat and Mal's gun that has only two bullets; Mal had the jagged machete. Would the be enough against one old man?

It was one of the living dead who changed everything.

Just as the preacher tore off the last piece of siding, a hand clamped around his ankle. The old man looked down in mild surprise and irritation. He jerked his foot free, turned to reach for his saber, and saw the two running straight at him. He picked up the saber and shrugged, turned, and strode forward to slaughter Negan and his whore.

-:-:-:-:-

Benny and Lalon got the top of the bleachers by leaping over the people who had been shot by Vix's attack. They stepped through the screen of smoke. And Vix's body was not there. Lalon looked over the edge to see when she had fallen. But she was nowhere.

Then something hit him on the side of the head with such shocking force that he sagged to his knees and tumbled into the bodies.

Benny whirled but screamed from the hit and twisted away and went rolling onto the next bleacher with a jarring thump.

Lalon lifted his aching head to see a massive form come lumbering toward him. It wasn't a Runner or a guard.

It was White Bear.

"Well, well, little Indian," grumbled the man with the melted face. "If it ain't dead man walking." White Near splashed with blood, though Lalon didn't think that any of it was his. "Get up, boy... at least have the stones to die on your feet."

Lalon tried to rise, but the blow he'd taken to the head made the whole world spin sickeningly. His knees buckled. Blood ran down his face and into his mouth.

"Then take it on your knees, boy," seethed White Bear. "I'm going to wear your skull on a chain around my neck so everyone will know you don't mess with White Bear."

Lalon fumbled for his fallen spear. "You're so dead," he said with a bloody smile.

"Not a chance."

Lalon shook his head. "You know it that you're gonna die out here tonight, you racist moron. You and your fruitcake of a father."

"Watch your mouth, little man."

Lalon spat blood on White Bear's shoes. "Or what? You'll kill me?" He turned to show his injured shoulder. "I'm already dead, remember? I got bitten in the pit. You killed me, and I'm not afraid to die anymore. I'll try to kill you, and if I can't, then Negan will. Or Mal or Sally. You and your father are vermin... and your time is over."

"Go to hell," growled White Bear as he raised his crowbar high over his head. Lalon raised his spear, but they both knew how this moment was going to end.

As White Bear's arm reached the top of its lift there was a loud, wet _whack_! White Bear paused, crowbar still held high, but now his eyes were open too wide, as if his eyelids were glued to his forehead. Then an arrow thrust through his chest, the tip of the blade peeking out through his muscles. He suddenly coughed, and dark blood bubbled over his lips and down his chin.

"What?" Said Lalon.

But White Bear had no answer. He shuddered and a ripely dropped to one knee, the crowbar falling harmlessly to the dirt. Then two slender figures rose up behind him. Benny held the bokken that's covered in blood and stood next to a small person covered with soot and blood and sweat. She had hair as black as a raven's feather and eyes the color of honey, and in her strong hands she held her compound bow.

Vid placed her foot on White Bear's back, and with a snarl of disgust she kicked him face-toward into the dirt and tore her arrow free. Lalon, who had spoken her name a hundred times in the last few minutes, could not make a single sound.

-:-:-:-:-

Tom saw White Bear fall, and a tiny smile touched his mouth. He would rather have handled that maniac himself, but there was justice in what had just happened.

The fight was going both well and badly. The good news was that KillGames was disintegrating around him. At least half of White Bear's men were down, and an equal number of spectators. The bad news was that when he'd told Dreaded Skillz and DJ Derby to let a few Infected loose to liven things up and provide a distraction, he had meant just that: a few. Not all of them. The Infected were like a tidal surge that was gradually pushing the living across the arena. People were falling into the pits, and so were Infected, and at this point Tom didn't think anyone was coming back out of those holes alive. At this rate the Infected were going to turn this whole place into an all-you-can-eat buffet, and that was definitely not part of Tom's plan.

A pair of guards rushed at him, both armed with woodsmen's axes. Tom parried one ax swing and slashed high, ducked under another and cut low, and the two men were down. Behind them were six Infected, and Tom realized that he was caught with an open pit to one side and the dead on the other. He'd have to fight. But this kind of slaughter burned layers off his soul. He knew that. Why hasn't the people here in the arena taken his offer and walked away? Not one of them had gone. Why?

He cut at the legs of the Infected, and kicked the limbless torsos into the pit. This was blunt butchery, nothing more.

In a moment's respite he turned and waved at Sally. When she spotted him, Sally gave a thumbs-up and abruptly vanished from the window. Tom whirled. Now he had to find Mal and Negan, and then get everyone out of the place while there was still a chance.

-:-:-:-:-

Across the field, Preacher Jack strode forward with his stolen saber in his bloodily hand. He slashed left and right, cutting down anyone who stood between his fury and Mal and Negan who had just escaped from his Pits of Judgement. A hard-faced young man with a Chinese broadsword suddenly appeared and used his free hand to push Mal back. Mal recognized him as Dieter Willis, one of the Saviors. He was witty and strong and known as to be the best swordsman.

Dieter rushed at Preacher Jack, feinting high and then attacking low in a blinding assault. Preacher Jack caught the blow on the edge of his sword and riposted with a counterattack that was too fast to follow. Dieter staggered back and brought his sword up again, but then faltered, his eyes registering total surprise. The broadsword tumbled from his fist, and he clamped his hands to his throat, but it was too little and too late to staunch the spray of blood that erupted from the savage wound. The preacher didn't even bother to watch him fall. He stepped aside to avoid the spray of blood and kept walking toward Mal and Negan. Negan screamed at his follow men, knowing Dieter from the beginning, and Preacher Jack turned to him and smiled.

"Come and get yours, Negan," he taunted. "I'm going to enjoy strapping you down and letting the Children feast on-"

Negan threw a punch of powder in his face. The old man tried to slash it out of the air, but his blade merely cut it open, and that made it worse. A cloud of plaster powder enveloped Preacher Jack. He spun away, coughing and gagging, and that fast Negan was running. He drove his shoulder into Preacher Jack's side and sent the man sprawling.

Right into one of the Infected pits. Into the Pits of Judgement.

Negan saw the white faces and white hands reaching up for the man as he pin wheeled down toward them, his sword slashing uselessly at empty air.

-:-:-:-:-

"We saw you get shot!" Lalon exclaimed. "I saw you fall."

Vix held her bow up. A big chunk of the bow was missing and the remaining portion was twisted at a weird angle. "They shot this. It knocked me down."

"Thank God." Benny said. Lalon wanted to grab her an hug her. Instead she slapped him across the face. Hard.

"Ow!" He cried, staggering back. "What was that for?"

Her face was an almost inhuman mask of sadness. "I heard what you said. You were bitten?"

Lalon turned his shoulder away and put his hand over the bite, not wanting her to see it. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

" _Okay_?" She demanded. "How is it okay?"

"I guess it's not. Everyone will be pissed. God, I can see Mal being more ungrateful for me. We all knew this but still never expect it. We all knew our luck will run out sometime, and well, I'm it."

Vix threw down her bow and grabbed his shoulder, using both hands to squeeze the edges of his bite until drops of blood popped up. "How long ago?" She said, and when he didn't answer right away, she yelled at him. "How long ago?"

"It might of been ten hours. Maybe twelve." Said Benny.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know," Lalon said. "It could have been longer..."

Vix let go of his arms and jammed her fingers under his jaw to feel his glands, then pressed her hand to his forehead, the grabbed his hair, and pulled him close so she could examine his eyes.

"Tell me what happened," she calmly said, rather than instantly screech at him and sob at the same time. "Exactly what happened."

"What-now? There's a big freaking fight going on. I should at least fight like a badass before I-"

"Now!"

Lalon shook his head and told her in quick terms how the big Runner had clamped teeth on his skin just as Lalon hit him with the rock. Vix made him repeat that part and Benny had to confirm the truth.

Then she slapped him again. Harder than the first time. It rocked his head sideways, and he almost fell.

"OW! What the hell?" Lalon demanded, reeling.

"God, you're so stupid," she said, shedding tears. "You're not dying."

"Wait... What?"

"The Runner had your skin pinched between his teeth but you fell away from him. It tore a flap of skin off. That's all... the infection is in the Runner's mouth, not in its teeth... you did not get bitten!"

Lalon stared at her. His mouth opened and shut several times without sound. "I-I-" and then he suddenly dropped into his knees. Vix knelt in front of him and there were tears in her eyes, sparkling like diamonds in the firelight.

"I-" Lalon said. "God... I thought I was..."

Benny patted his good shoulder. "I thought so too. You still have your luck."

She took his face in both hands and stared at him. "It's not your time, yet. You're not going to die."

Then, despite fire and gunplay and screams and the living dead, Lalon chuckled in relief, knowing he still has some luck with him, and stays a little longer with his family, the RK's.

-:-:-:-:-

"We have to get out of here," barked Tom as he raced to intercept Mal and Negan. "Right now!"

The Infected were everywhere. Before Negan was about to reply there was a huge explosion, and they turned to see several wagons that formed one of the walls of the arena disintegrate into a fireball that knocked down at least a third of the surviving people in the place. Infected were flung halfway across the gaming floor, and a dozen spectators and guards fell screaming into the open pits.

"That's our cue," said Tom. "This whole place is about to blow itself into orbit. We have to go now!"

"Wait a minute," came a painful reply, and they turned to see a bloody, limping Lalon running alongside Benny and Vix. "Did I hear something about this place blowing up?"

"All to hell and gone," said Tom, grabbing them and shoving them toward the smoking hole in the wall of wagons. "There's five hundred pounds of C4 in the hotel lobby, and I rigged it. The kids are with Alec and Lugh with a few Saviors to go back with their wounded. You guys go to Queen Arnica."

They ran as Mal and Negan stayed back. "Let's blow this motherfucking place down!"

And they were running. As they raced Mal cut a last look around. Many of the bounty hunters were down; the rest were already leaping over flaming wreckage. Tom yelled, "Go... GO!" They ran into the smoke and through flaming wreckage and out into the cool darkness of the big field. Behind them the last of the guards and spectators were still fighting the Infected. Mal wondered if they were all crazy? Did they think they could win? Or were they so locked into the moment that violence was the only response they were capable of? She hated them and ran from them.

Vix, Benny, and Lalon caught up the Queen and jumped into the truck as they dove off with other wounded. Fluffy McTeague ran with Sally Two-Knives in his arms like a baby doll. Dreaded Skillz and DJ Derby were racing each other and laughing; and a whole phalanx of the surviving bounty hunters followed them off to the left, into the woods. Tom was heading right, straight for the hedge-rows and the road.

Mal opened her mouth to shout at Tom, to ask him if he was sure that he knew how to rig an explosion, when the world seemed to detonate around them and the entire Wawona Hotel leaped high into the night sky. A massive glowing fireball punched hundreds of feet into the air, igniting the surrounding trees, vaporizing the water in the ponds, and flinging the armored wagons far out into the fields. Mal and Negan sighed and zagged as flaming debris crashed down all around them with the force of a meteor shower. The grass caught fire and superheated winds pursued them like a host of demons.

Mal heard Tom cry out and saw him stumble, debris struck the ground all around them.

"Go!" Negan growled through bared teeth, pulling Mal.

They ran all the way to the gates and beyond, and down the road into darkness. Debris continued to fall for a full five minutes, as if ghosts of KillGames were hurling artillery at them. They ran and ran until they could not run anymore. They were all spread out across a mile of firelit landscape, Mal and Negan in the field, and the allies deep in the forest.

-:-:-:-:-

"We made it!" Said Mal, fighting a crazy laugh that threaded to break from her chest.

"Yes," said Negan in a whisper of a voice. "We made it."

"NEGAN!"

The voice that roared out of the darkness seemed to belong to a monster, a demon from out of hell itself. They all turned to see a tall figure emerge from the smoke, with fires burning the world behind him.

Preacher Jack.

He held an old-fashioned six-shot pistol in one hand and the curved cavalry saber in the other. His black coat was streaked with soot and blood and his face pale madness in the starlight. "Negan!" He shouted.

"Get out of here, Mal," he grabbed her arm.

Map peeled Negan's hand away. "No," she said fiercely. "We have to stop him."

"Better be careful. He's fuckin' fast and will kill us."

"Not before we go first." She knew that Negan was right. None of them were a match for this madman, old as he was. Preacher Jack had been a solider and killer his whole life, and the hard years since the Black Night had only made him tougher. There was no way Mal could beat him, but maybe she could stall the old mercenary long enough for Negan to wound him. Or kill him.

Preacher Jack stopped ten paces away and raised the pistol. Negan has her gun, but there's only two and preacher might have more.

Preacher Jack grinned, and his teeth were bloody. "I'm going to shoot all of you. Leave Negan last so he can watch his beloved flower die."

"Not going to happen, John Wayne," said Negan firmly, pointing the bat at Preacher Jack. "You're about to lose you wrinkle ass bitch."

"This ain't about winning, boy," Preacher Jack said with a laugh. "This is about justice. You killed my sons! You killed my whole family. Don't you understand the full weight of your sin? You did what Black Night and three hundred million dead could not do! You killed the House of Marion!"

"Your sons were trash," said Mal, her voice heavy with contempt. "Your whole family is nothing but trash. You're everything that was wrong with the old world, and you want to rebuild that world and make it in your image. You want the world to be about pain and suffering and hurt. How can you pretend to be a preacher, a man of God, and do the things you do?"

Preacher Jack eyes her with burning hatred. "You don't speak to me like that, girly. You don't dare."

And he pulled the trigger.

 _Click_!

The hammer fell on a spent cartridge. Preacher Jack pulled the trigger again and again and then, with a snarl, he threw the empty pistol at Mal.

Mal ducked.

Suddenly Negan was running at Preacher Jack, driving his bat toward his chest. The bat was an inch away when he suddenly pivoted and let it slice through his lapels; he kept turning in a circle and drove his elbow into the back of his head as he passed. Negan pitched forward onto the ground. Preacher Jack pivoted toward him, raising his foot for a kick that would have shattered his face- but Mal was moving fast. She dove at Preacher Jack and tried to tackle him.

The attack made the kick miss, but it did not take the preacher down. Preacher Jack caught Mal as he flew at her and with a snap of his hip sent his attacker pitching off into the grass and Mal's head hit against a bark of tree. Mal landed hard. Preacher Jack stamped down, but Mal rolled desperately away.

Red suddenly soaked through her vision, blinding her. She scrambled to her knees, rubbing the fresh blood out of her eyes just in time to see Negan punching the preacher, then threw another but the old man pivoted and dodged his attacks. "Piece of shit, you fucking fucker, you _don't_ fucking touch her, _you fucking fuck_ -" He was screaming, swearing, invested in his kill.

Everything was red, and Mal was okay, and as soon as she recovers she'll get back up and shoot the bastard, she thought.

But then Mal could hear- barely- over the rush of blood in her ears, deafening her.

It was the jarring thunk of wood-on-ground that made her head snap up from her recovery.

Ellie was on the ground, clattering from Negan's fingertips.

The scene was a puzzle, all estranged pieces of something larger that Mal's brain refused to put together into a whole: Ellie on the ground, chain and mending onto the grass. Preacher Jack, snarling like the animal, the saber flashing silver in his fist.

Negan's strong hands, no longer clutching at his beloved Ellie, but grasping at his throat as crimson flowed between his fingers.


	80. Chapter 75

How Negan managed to break Preacher Jack's leg with his throat cut, Mal couldn't have guessed. But he did, Mal watching him as if she was underwater, feeling frighteningly paralyzed, her limbs leaden and useless at her sides.

It was the sickening crack of bone that snapped her out of it, like she'd been dragged to the surface for air. Mal moved, diving to grab her abandoned machete and then looking up to see Negan sinking to the floor, rolling off of Preacher Jack, whose leg was twisted and bent unnaturally at the kneecap. Preacher Jack hissed in pain, a wounded animal snarling and scraping against the bloodstained floor. Negan's collar was similarly soaked, his dark shirt stained scarlet. His breathing was all wrong, ragged and shallow, and there was too much fucking blood, painting everything a sticky, sickening shade of red.

Mal saw that same red adorning the twisted face in droplets.

Negan's blood.

All she could think was that this fucking man didn't deserve to wear the blood of the man she loved.

"Now you, whore," said Preacher Jack. "I'll cut you some and then let you watch what I do to him more. When you beg me for death, I'll show you how merciful I can be."

"No. KillGames is closer. That is the law. You'll be begging me for death, and I won't be merciful."

"There is no law," snarled Preacher Jack as he lunged forward. Mal turned away from the cut.

Then Mal's hand closed around her machete, and Mal turned and the blade ripped itself as Mal turned and Preacher Jack's sarod whistles through the air and Mal turned... and turned...

And the moment froze.

Preacher Jack stood there, tall and triumphant, his lips curled into his crooked smile. Mal's tight grip on the machete extended all the way out, and then dropped her weapon onto the grass. All along the silvery edge of the blade there were threads that glistened like black oil.

Preacher Jack spoke first.

He said, "No."

Quietly. Wryly.

Then his sword dropped from his hand, and with infinite slowness he leaned backward and fell onto the grass. There was a line of black wetness stretched across his throat from side to side.

The whole thing took under a minute in his frenzy.

"Mal! Mal!" Suddenly Tom was screaming, shaking her, his frame carrying up Negan by the arm. "Help me! We have to get him to the bounty hunters!"

Mal was a machine, everything in her screaming under extreme duress, gears spinning out of control and smoking. _The task at hand, focus on the task at hand. One foot in front of the other._

She groped blindly at the ground for the handle of her machete, grasping painfully when her fingers met wood. couldn't look at Negan until the man's weight was strung up over her and Tom's shoulders. She couldn't, she couldn't bear to look and see if-

No.

The blood wasn't spraying, she noticed. It dripped freely down onto the grass and the road as they rushed toward the trucks where Sally Two-Knives and few other bounty hunters are, leaving a trail, but it wasn't spraying. That was good, right? That had to mean something-

One of the Saviors was the one to open the back door, and Tom was the one to shout into the crowded infirmary that _Negan's hurt, his throat got cut, Sally_ -!

Mal couldn't form words, mouth opening and closing dumbly as she held the man's weight on her shoulders. Sally and Basher Clay charged over, looking every bit the role of competent battle medic.

"Put him here, lay him right here, Mal." Basher Clay took Negan's other shoulder from Tom, helped Mal get him onto the back stretched out in the middle of the van.

Mal couldn't help but notice that the floor was spattered with a not-insignificant amount of fresh blood. And it was then, seeing Negan lying there lifelessly on the table, a long sliver of red dividing the neck that she'd cried into and kissed so many times, that Mal broke.

When the sobs came ripping out of her, guttural and broken, Mal realized that her face had already been wet. Sally was calling out orders to the others- _DJ Derby, grab me an IV, Basher, get that suture kit over there, Dreaded Skillz, will you_ -

Tom's arms were around her, pulling her back from Negan, and she lurched forward away from the embrace and then sagged against it. "Mal, Mal, you need to let them help him, they'll take him to Queen Arnica's place, it's the closest. Mal, you need to back up..."

She'd never told Negan that she loved him. That thought occurred to her as she watched Dreaded Skillz and Bashers slide Negan's shirt arm and slide an IV needle into his forearm. She'd kept telling herself she was waiting for the right fucking moment, kept wanting it to be so perfect, and she'd ended up never saying it at all.

She said it now, pulling forward, cradling the sides of Negan's head in her hands, pain throbbing through her broken fingers and blood seeping through her cut forehead. "I love you." It sounded ugly, her voice thick with tears and dripping snot. "I love you, _I love you_ , I'm sorry-"

Sally's hands were on her shoulders then, and she couldn't even feel them. "Mal, please, I know, but you have to let us work, okay?" Her voice in any other scenario would have been soothing, sweet. It was nothing but noise right now, but she clung to it anyway, a lifeline, hope. "You have to let us help him." Her gaze caught on Mal's battered hands, and she faltered. "Mal, those are broken, I need to set them-"

"No!" She yelped at the suggestion, the idea of her hands, her insignificant pain being the reason that Negan slipped away was unbearable to her. "Help him," she repeated, pawing desperately at her sleeve. " _Please, save him-"_

Sally nodded, moved toward the table "Okay. Just- Tom, get her back here as soon as you can. We'll be at Queen Arnica's as quick and speedy."

Tom nodded, and Mal moved back toward Negan. She dipped her head, kissed Negan's forehead. It was clammy, damp and salty with sweat. Tom's arms were around her again, drawing her back from the van, and the van vanished into the road.

On the road, she remembered that there was a larger world still.

"He's okay. He's tough as hell." Tom's hand stayed in the center of her back, warm and comforting like he always did with her when she was afraid.

Mal didn't know how she ended up with Ellie in her hands- she hadn't realized that she'd grabbed her off the ground before she and Tom had carried Negan to the van, but she was there suddenly, heavy and grounding in her hand even with the pain that shot though the broken bones at the strain. Feeling the weight of the bat, she remembered it- groping for a weapon on the floor, not finding her machete but wrapping a fist around Ellie's handle.

She wanted blood, and she would have it. She would kill every last one of them that was still alive, burn their bodies until they were nothing but ash and blackened bone.

There were three out on the street, almost at the wall. Running, trying to make a getaway. She pulled Tom's gun, fingers screaming in protest as she pulled the trigger and they fell, one by one, clutching at the legs she'd shot out, gasping as they squeezed and tried to staunch the pain and blood flow from the ragged wounds.

She recalled Negan's words from earlier that day. _There's something more fucking satisfying about doing it up close like that, you know? Not quite with your bare fucking hands, but closer than you can get with a gun._

Oh, Mal knew. She couldn't take all three of them apart like she had with the man who had attacked Negan- her hands were too mangled for that, but she could at least have the satisfaction of watching their heads cave in under the weight of Negan's prized weapon.

As soon as the first blow connected, she understood why Negan favored her so much- that initial rip-crack-splatter of skin and skull and brain matter was something else entirely. It fed something vicious inside of her, something rage-fueled and guttural and thirsty. It was a weapon that allowed the wielder to revel in the kill, and that's exactly what she needed. Catharsis, blood poured out to cover Negan's wounds. It was the closest thing to righteous, almost religious vengeance she'd felt in a long time.

As she swung, the bodies were nothing when she was done- blood and gristle and shards of bone, and Tom had to pull her back, pull her away.

Ellie's chains were heavily tarnished with guts from what knows, and as the adrenaline began to wear off, she suddenly felt too heavy in her aching hand. The bat slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground, and even as she did Mal felt a pang of guilt. Negan hates it when she gets dropped.

She groped for the handle, wincing, and Tom pulled her back again, picking her up himself. "Mal. It's over. It's okay. Come on, you need to get your hand fixed."

Mal walked over to all the bounty hunters and Saviors that joined the fight. They all stare at Mal, she tried not to fall into pieces. She then emerged a minute later to grab a can of black paint and a brush from Conan Mike. She used Allen- a young Savior- knife to pry open the lid.

Mal dipped the brush into the paint before speaking to the allies. "I want to leave something begin. It's what all of you... N-Negan wants." He used the brush to write the wall of the gate.

**KILLGAMES IS CLOSED**

**THAT IS THE LAW**

**-Negan**

She considered what she had done, and then added her own name below Negan's.

Diana LaRose took the brush from her, dipped it in the can, and wrote her name blow that. Then the rest of the Bounty hunters, including the ones that are at Arnica's place, the Saviors, the RK's from Tom, and everyone else. When they were done, they looked at the wall.

"Someone else might try it again," said a Savior. "Somewhere else."

"No," said DJ Derby, "not when we tell what happened here, Dudette."

"Will it make a difference in Fairview?" Asked Tom.

"Yeah," said Mal, "it will. After this... I think it'll make a difference everywhere this story is told. It's what we all wanted, what Negan wanted."

At daylight the bounty hunters began preparing to leave. Mal takes a ride with one of bounty's horse as they all rode to Arnica station and where a few way station monks live in. They get to the station, and it's not too busy.

Medical tents were around the area, covering over the gas station of the monks. Everyone in their tents helped on the wounded; there were about twenty that are wounded, and outside by the gates only eight people are dead. Mal heads into the large station where she finds the kids.

Max ran up and hugged her, and later the rest group up for a warming, welcome hug. She turned towards Rin and in a blitz of surprise to see a red scar on her cheek. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "Something happened with the rhino incident. I'm fine."

Mal touches her cheek softly. "You're still beautiful, with or with no scar."

Johan turned toward her at her holding Ellie. "What happened to your hand?" She took one look at the awkward angle of the broken fingers and met Mal face with concern. "Mal, what happened to-"

"Negan got attacked," she ground out, and saying it was like shards of glass tearing through her, the pain of it making it seem too real. "He's- I don't know if..." she stared down at her mangled hands. "I killed Preacher Jack who did it."

"Go," Killeen said, jerking her head toward the infirmary. "Get fixed up. We'll be here."

Mal let herself be guided back to the infirmary by Max, holding her breath for what she would inevitably see when she got inside.

She wasn't prepared for it, though. She didn't think she'd ever be ready to see Negan laying still and bloody on the table, a row of neat black stitches holding together the slash across his throat. She made a noise at the sight of him- something broken and agonized, and Sally whirled around at took her by the shoulders, guiding her to sit.

"Mal, calm down. I'm gonna set your fingers, alright? Don't move-"

"Is he gonna be- is he...?" She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

Sally bit her lip, looking torn. "I don't know, Mal. He lost a lot of blood, and I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that he's definitely going to be fine. They missed the carotid artery, and that was lucky for him, but I've never done stitches in a spot that tricky before, and the cut was pretty deep. I did everything I could. Now all we can do is wait, okay?" She took her hand between her own. "You need to let me set these, Mal."

"Okay," she said quietly. She felt Max's hand on her shoulder, felt the painful shifting of broken and displaced bones beneath her skin as Sally's hands worked them back into place. Her eyes were set on Negan laying out on the table just a few feet away, Dreaded Skillz and Basher Clay gently pressing gauze and bandages into place to cover up the stitches. It was better, having them covered up. The stark, jagged lines of the stitches were so jarring to see against the skin of Negan's tan throat. Mal swallowed hard, thinking of the times she and Negan had laid in bed together, her own lips pressed to the tender skin of Negan's neck. Negan had always been so gentle with her. Now, all she wanted was to have Negan in his arms, to suck and kiss and bite possessive marks into his skin to cover up the ugliness and pain of the wound.

_All the things we've never gotten to do... all the things that I've never gotten the chance to say..._

After Sally Two-Knives got done wrapping up her hands- three fingers broken in all- the only thing that got her to leave the infirmary was the kids. She and Mal returned the main entrance to find Sam with the kids.

"Thank you. For watchin' out for them."

Sam smiled grimly and nodded. "Of course. You've taught them good. I saw them fight and survive."

"I learned it from Tom. Wanted to do the same with them. To let them grow up into this world we are born in."

"I...I heard about Negan. I'm sorry, Mal." He really meant it. Mal swallowed hard, the condolences painful. She couldn't manage words, just a shaky nod.

With the kids safe and secure and KillGames now ingrates into ash and decay, Mal had only one place she wanted to be.

Sally didn't object to her pulling up a chair beside Negan's bed in the infirmary. They were quiet and out of the way of her working- stitching wounds and bandaging limbs. There was the limp body of a woman on one of the tables, and by the look of the knife wound at her temple, she had been much less fortunate than Negan. The thought that that could have been him, it could have just as easily been Negan laying lifeless on an operating table, made Mal's blood run cold.

He's still here. He is. There's still a chance.

People came and went- first was the RK's, who gave her a gentle look and sat around Mal. Vix gave a comforting hand on her shoulder when she saw Negan.

"Hey," she murmured, "how is he?"

"They said he's... that they doesn't know for sure. Sally Two-Knives stitched him up best she could but that he's lost a lot of blood." Her throat grew thick.

Lalon took her hand, squeezing tightly, and not for the first time Mal found herself infinitely thankful for their strength and friendship. "He's tough, Mal. And he freakin' loves you so much." Mal couldn't help the pained noise that squeaked out of her throat at that, and he squeezed her hand again. "If he knows you're out here worrying about him, he's fighting tooth and nail to get back to you. I know he is." He ran a hand through her hair, a comforting gesture, and Mal took a shaky breath.

"I know that, too."

It was a moment of silence; the RK's remember all the things that happened the past years and months.

"We have some things to speak out about." Lugh said. "We did separate, and I think we should talk about it."

Mal forced herself to think about the world beyond Negan's bedside. "Well, how do we start." Lalon said, clapping his hands together. "Isn't this just for a girl's talk?"

Lugh shook his head, smiling. "I don't think so."

"It's not." Vix replied.

"Well for starters, I'm not dead." Lalon said.

Vix sighed. "Gave us a scare there. Don't do that again."

"Cross my heart and hope to not die anytime soon."

"Yeah," Lugh sighed. "Um... you know with your bets on me and Alec, about us together. Well... we're-um... together," he went quietly at the end.

Mal nodded, a sense of relief spreading through her to know that Lugh found someone, and even for Alec. "That's great for you, Lugh. I'm happy for you."

He blushed, making his freckles pop out more with the rosy cheeks on his face, and he chuckled softly.

Mal was about to speak her secrets out, this is it. She hadn't had to say it in so long. It felt harder now, somehow, after burying it for years. She kept believing lies about them not being their for her and have to protect her friends from Charlie, digging a shallow grave with her hands soaked in dirt. Like the dead outside, it kept crawling to the surface, decaying and ragged but still inflicting pain.

The words tumbled out of her mouth, as if her body couldn't stand to keep them any longer. "I was raped. At Tradepost. From Charlie Marion. When he hosted that party and I was alone with him, he dragged me- he came in before it started, pulled me aside. Had punched me up and- and he-"

She couldn't get anything past that out, felt the shameful burn of tears behind her eyes. She worried for a split second that her friends would see it that way- that her explanation wasn't enough justification for how she'd been acting.

"I never told you because I was afraid. I told Calvin, and well, the asshole he was he didn't believe me, so it hurt me badly. And even if I did tell you, what will Charlie do to you guys from me. I wanted to protect you, especially you, Vix."

She bit her lip. "I hid this secret so long, kept myself to the abuse on this man, and never once considered it. Before the first time we destroyed Charlie's KillGames, I told Negan first. I'm glad I did," She clarified. "He's been good to me. He's helped me. I wasn't sure about him, but now- now I can't picture myself without him. Not just because of this. But because we just...work together. Actually, I love him, and I love you guys so much. Your family. I love you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you my pain and suffering."

"Mal," Lalon started, and she forced himself to raise her head and look at him. He didn't have pity in his eyes, and for that she was grateful. Now that the words were out of her, she felt like a burden had been lifted, ever so slightly. The corner of his mouth turned up a little when their eyes met, and he smiled- a little sad, but it comforted her nonetheless. "Wish you told us than Calvin, the bastard."

Mal burst out a giggle. Vix smiled at that, her face understanding in a way that she couldn't grasp. "I'm glad you told us sometime. I'm glad you have him. You deserve to be happy, Mal. We all do."

Lugh reached for her hand. "Thank you, Mal. For telling us. For trusting us. And just so you know... we love you too. You're family, a best friend."

Mal breathed, feeling lighter. "Thank you."

Then all the RK's hugged together, embracing the years when they first started meeting to fighting together, and to the happiest moments as a family. The RK's are one big family.

They let go as the three get up. "We're gonna get back out there, help with the cleanup. No-" Vix caught her moving to get up and pressed her back into her seat. "You're fine, Mal. You stay here, it's alright." Lalon leaned down at kissed the top of her head. "Really. We have this covered. You stay with him. Be here when he wakes up."

-:-:-:-:-

With Denise- the Savior nurse- okay, Mal stay over the night. She knew there was no way that she would be able to sleep, not with the terror of the invasion and the gut-wrenching fear of losing Negan still hovering over her like heavy storm clouds, so when Denise offered to let her stay, she took her up on it without question.

She and Alec had kept her company for a while while Max was away helping with the cleanup. She felt guilty about that- she should be out there, helping, laying to rest the people who had fought for this place. The strength of her guilty conscience had nearly pulled him out onto the street a couple times, but as Tom came for a visit he had stopped her, let her know that it was okay to stay.

"You fought them off, Mal. You've done your part for today. You can stay here if you want to. Don't be stupid."

She laughed. Then he leans in to kiss her forehead. "He's gonna be okay. He's fighting tooth and nail for you. You've grown so much, and I'm proud of you Mal. Now Negan will be there for you."

"You sure you're ready for me to date this man?"

Tom chuckled. "Not likely, but he cares for you."

It was late now- she'd left Tom's watch that morning, but Denise and Alec had retired to the upstairs hours ago, and the kids had been asleep for nearly as long, dozing on a free bed with Max having his one hand protectively lolling over the edge of the kids. That brought out a bit of pride in Mal, knowing Max was so fiercely protective of the others.

Mal hadn't let go of Negan's hand in what felt like hours, keeping it possessively clasped between her own, unable and unwilling to let it go. Let him go. She kept wishing for something- a sign, a twitch of his fingers against his palm or fluttering eyelids. But Negan was still, and it was all Mal could do to focus on the low thrum of the man's pulse under her thumb, the rise and fall of his chest. She watched it almost obsessively, counting his breaths, fearing that if she looked away for even a moment, they would stop coming altogether.

"Wake up, you asshole," Mal whispered against their clasped hands. "You don't get to just...just come in here and make me fall in love with you and then die on me. I guess you warned me though, didn't you? You told me, all that time ago, that you'd die before you let anyone touch me. You stupid..." her voice broke, tears welling up. "I'm stupid too, though. Kept putting off telling you that I loved you. Kept tellin' myself that it was because I wanted the right moment, and that was part of it. It was. But I also... I was scared of this, Negan. This right here. Me fallin' in love with you and then somethin' happening, and then I'd be right back here with everyone dying. So I kept not sayin' it, like it would somehow keep this from happening. Like it changed anything. It didn't. It didn't change a damn thing, it didn't save you, and it didn't stop me from fallin' in love with you anyway." She stroked through the tousled strands of Negan's hair.

"Wish I would've said it," she confessed hoarsely. "I keep thinking that you could- you could die without knowin' how I feel about you, and it fucking kills me, Negan." She pulled herself in closer, resting her head on Negan's chest, hearing the comforting drumming of his heart beneath her ear. "You'd better wake up. You'd better wake up so I can tell you, so you can know. You'd better wake up and stick around to help me raise my kids, because that's what I want. For so long, I was tryin' to resist any place, sayin' there's wasn't a place that's safe. That was selfish, it was me bein' scared of finally getting attached to somewhere. To someone. To the idea of a life, a real life, with the kids and AJ and you. But now- today, we fought off those people, Negan. The people here, they fought, and we won. They showed that they can change, that this place is worth fighting for, that we can build a life here. And that's what I want, Negan. A life, here. With you." She felt tears sliding hot and wet down her cheeks, soaking through the thin material of Negan's shirt.

Mal's heart stopped when she felt something- a subtle shift underneath her head.

There was a hand in her hair then, large and warm, an answered prayer.

"Can't believe you didn't try to kiss me awake, Mal." Negan's voice was thick and raspy, but it was his voice, and Mal found herself crying even harder when she lifted her head to see hazel eyes gazing down at her. "Am I your fucking sleeping beauty or not?"

" _Negan_ ," Mal choked out, and she pulled herself up to meet Negan's lips with her own, shaking even as she cupped the sides of his face and kissed him. Negan's hands grasped weakly at her arms, and Mal never wanted to pull away from him.

"That's more fucking like it," Negan breathed against Mal's lips, and Mal couldn't help it, couldn't withhold anything from the man in her arms- she laughed. Long and low and breathy, and if there was a hint of a sob to it, Negan was generous enough to not point it out.

"I love you," Mal said, no longer afraid of bearing the weight of the words. They no longer felt like a burden- they were liberation, a breath of air after having spent so long feeling like he was drowning. "I love you, _I love you_ , Negan-"

"I love you too, Mal," Negan grinned up at her, his face like the sun. "I fucking love you, too."


	81. Epilogue

Mal's mind twisted the gash across Negan's throat into something truly horrific. Denise had always been the one to clean and re-wrap it until the stitches came out, so for a week, whenever she looked at the bandages necklacing Negan's throat, Mal could only picture the bloody slash that had been there before.

There were nightmares, some nights, where the slash went too deep, where everything was red and wet and the blood sprayed and Mal woke up, sweating and shaking, clinging to Negan and grasping for his pulse to assure herself that he was still alive.

When the stitches came out, it wasn't pretty, but it was better than Mal had been picturing. No ragged wound, just a thick, angry-but-healing red scar across the front of Negan's throat. She caught Negan rubbing at it and frowning one evening with the handheld mirror.

"Ugly fucking thing, isn't it?" he muttered. "Fucking jackass. At least he didn't wreck my pretty face though, huh baby? You would've dumped me for sure then."

Mal thought she caught the slightest hint of insecurity underneath Negan's joking, and drew the man into her arms, pressing her hips into the countertop drawer. "Don't be stupid, Negan." She kissed the scar, a feather-light brush of lips, and felt the way Negan's breathing hitched when she did so. "If it bothers you, you can wear you're scarf. You can wear it with that fucking jacket in the middle of summer. How's that sound?" She teased.

Negan's face was buried in Mal's hair to hide his grin. "Sounds fucking perfect, baby."

That night, when Mal wrapped herself around Negan, she paid special attention to his neck, kissing and sucking the way she'd wanted to before, drinking in the way Negan squirmed under her, heated moans escaping his lips.

Negan didn't mind the marks that he found there the next morning. Mal caught him smiling in the mirror, and wearing them proudly when he went off to come to Sanctuary, back home.

-:-:-:-:-

After saying a farewell to the bounty hunters helping the Saviors, saying their goodbyes as companions and friends Mal was finally coming back home. She held Negan's hand the whole ride as the gates of Sanctuary open up, and everything Mal ever wanted and loved with Negan she doubts herself and lets go his hand.

The Saviors at the main entrance greeted him in excitement, congratulating and thankfully he's still kicking. Then what Mal thought was a perfect life for her to find someone has broken her up, when Negan's wives come around him and basically touched him all over, Amber kisses his cheek. _They're showing off, those whores_. Mal's inner thoughts were dark, wanting to kill those girls, however, she knew it would come to this. She doubted so much but was so blind to see it through.

The nervous thoughts still occupy her mind, though. She wonders weakly if Negan just wants sex and doesn't love her like Ellie; the man is incredibly sexual, plain and simple, and the thought of Negan only using her has been on her mind often since the very beginning. It's not like she's got much going for him. She's a barely-making-it to adulthood; and on top of all that, she finds herself only average in terms of appearance, especially when she's standing next to Negan.

The thought makes her feel sick, suddenly, so sick that she quickly dismisses herself and all but runs up the stairs.

She almost slams the door to her bedroom shut and sinks to the floor. She takes a few deep breaths. Fuck - not now, she thinks desperately, distress and pain rising in her chest. Her thoughts are running wild; Negan's already cutting her off, losing interest, just playing with her. Slowly she crawls into her bed and wraps herself in sheets.

She falls into an uneasy sleep with tears on her eyelashes, and when she wakes, the door opens. She lifts her head blearily, brows furrowing.

"Oh, shit," She hears Negan say, "sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Are you okay?"

Mal drops her head again. "Go 'way," She mumbles into the pillow. Negan sighs a little and shuts the door, then crosses the room to sit next to Mal on the bed.

"Baby.." Negan trails off. When Mal doesn't stir again, he turns on the desk lamp and crawls into bed next to Mal. Mal keeps her eyes away from his face. Negan doesn't force her to turn, just runs a hand through her soft waves.

"I know those girls were showing off there," Negan murmurs, gently looping an arm over Mal's waist. Mal doesn't fight it - but she doesn't lean into it, either. "I'm sorry, Mal. I didn't mean to freak you out."

Mal waits for him to continue. After a moment he coaxes Mal to turn over, one hand cupping Mal's cheek. Mal sighs, eyes closing. "I divorced my wives."

Mal's mouth goes dry, and she gazes, surprised, at Negan. Negan smiles.

"You.. divorced your wives? But-" Mal whispers, unable to tear her gaze away from Negan. Negan gives a half-inclined jerk of his shoulders.

"I didn't love them like I do with you. Those girls liked my perks, that's all. They're were just for fun, but you are perfect, and I won't treat you like that. Because I love you and you're you, Mal. And because I've waited my whole life to love you. I love your smile, your laugh and your voice. I love your body. I love how your blue eyes take my breath away every time I look in them. I love the way you hold me so tight at night, like there's no fuckin' tomorrow. I love that yours is the last voice I hear before I fall asleep. I love the kids. I love that you love when you have that mean ass glare when you're pisses off at me. Hell, I can't think of anything I don't love about you."

Mal can feel herself turning pink, shy and somehow feeling like her chest might burst with joy. He loves me. "I love you too," She admits shyly, chuckling with embarrassment. Negan breaks out in a grin and laughs, dipping his head.

"That's good," Negan says, resting their foreheads together. "Now I feel like less of a fucking fool."

"I don't think you're a fool." Mal reaches up, cups Negan's cheek. "I think you're amazing."

Negan seems surprised for a brief moment. Then he swoops in and pulls Mal in for a deep, slow kiss -just soft, full of feeling. It's nice. Slowly Negan rolls them over, and they stay like that for a while, kissing languidly. Then Mal pulls away to answer one last question.

"How it go with the wives?"

Negan barked a hard laugh. "They cried for me, fuckin' begging me to stay and they do it better than you."

"Oh my God."

"Yeah, except Catherine. She's not as clingy as the rest of those girls."

"Yeah. Well, this time no sharing. You're mine."

"Hey.." Negan's hand slips down to her lower back, then her ass, squeezing lightly. "That's my line, baby."

-:-:-:-:-

Mal let the RK's and the kids sleep in her room, her bedroom now crowded. She couldn't sleep at all; there's any nightmares at all. She felt... lonely. Most of it was the scent of Negan, the feeling of his arms around her, and the comfort of him. Negan did told her that she can now stay and move her stuff in Negan's room, although she's nervous. Nervous of getting into this relationship that she had never experience.

She climbs out her bed, carrying her candle before exiting quietly as she ascends the third floor, and to Negan's solid door. She nervously knocks the door, regret it since Negan's already asleep and likely doesn't want to be disturbed.

Before she can even walk through the cold hallway, though, Negan's calling her. She freezes with one foot on the first floor, feeling like a deer in the headlights.

"Mal," Negan says again, and Mal turns slowly to face her. He's standing nearby, wearing boxers and a shirt, his hair rustled than slick. "You okay?"

Mal swallows the nervousness that builds in her chest. "I couldn't sleep. It wasn't nightmare, just- I don't know what I want. I just.. want to stay with you. Please."

"Of course, honey." Negan runs a hand through her hair gently, fingers running down her cheek after. "You're gonna move in with me. You'll be staying here forever, and sleep with me."

Mal nods. He lets her in, closes the door. She shifts into the sheets and shifts for Negan and curls against the man's chest, and Negan's arms slip down to wrap around her waist. She's still trembling; she can't seem to stop; but Negan's hold is still as soothing as ever, and it's not long before she's relaxing, still nuzzled close against Negan's shoulder. She's so relaxed, actually, he's starting to doze a little, and Negan adjusts her so she's sleeping more comfortably.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mal," Negan murmurs. "I promise."

"Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it- the last chapter! Thank you for enjoy the series. But... this series isn't done yet. Can't let you guys not know what will happen with Mal and Negan's relationship. There is still more to come and I will announced the new chapter of the series this week. 
> 
> Thank you for enjoying The Ruins, and I know these are very long stories and probably what people don't like when reading in ao3, but I wanted these stories to be like a book you buy and read for hours at home, in the beds, and late at night (well, reading a long fanfiction book I say). So, stay tune for the new story and again, thank you. Leave a comment or kudo if you like, and The Ruins lives on.


	82. The Ruins Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third book is out now and don't miss the next exciting chapter in the world of the Ruins. Here's a preview description of the book.

The RK's are working all the communities together as the RK's kids journey through a fierce wilderness that was once America, searching for humanity itself have survived... somewhere.

But the Ruins is far more dangerous than any of the RK's, the Saviors, everyone can imagine. Something strange is happening to the Infected; a swarm of the past is coming back and looks like a group that used to be a Flyer Frontier. Is this group far more sinister behind this new invasion of the living dead, or the living dead more sinister and becoming mutated?


End file.
